Arthur's Quest
by Avi8
Summary: This is my re-writing of what I think should have happened in Series 5 Episode 3. It begins the same as the tv show, but have patience! Arthur meets a dying sorceress who gives him a prophecy which will lead to Arthur searching for the mysterious Emrys.
1. Chapter 1

Arthur's Quest

Chapter One – In search of a prophecy.

* * *

It was nearing the end of a beautiful spring day. The forest was alive with the sights and sounds of the new life within it and the sun was slanting down between the trees bathing everything in its still weak embrace. Winter had been long and hard, its steel grip seemingly holding all of Albion in a state of suspended animation, but now the warmth was returning to the land, the days were lengthening, and life was returning to the forest.

On the forest trail in the midst of this sylvan beauty, King Arthur sat astride his horse, slowly making his way back towards Camelot. Wintertime was always a time of privation for Arthur as it was the only time of year when hunting was not generally considered profitable enough to pursue, and hunting was the one occupation that Arthur loved above all others. During the winter months, Arthur's exercise came mainly from training with his knights, and that was all well and good, but it did not satisfy the hunter in Arthur, and his mood invariably deteriorated as winter dragged on and his privation made itself felt more and more. By the time spring arrived, Arthur was raring to go, and hunting parties with the knights were arranged as frequently as matters of state allowed. But even the knights had duties of their own, and sometimes, Arthur yearned for the days when, as a boy, he would slip from the citadel unseen and escape into the forest armed with bow and arrows and spend the day shooting at rabbits, birds and small deer. There was nothing like whiling away the hours, hidden in the undergrowth, senses alert for every tiny movement. He would forget whatever problems he had and instead would spend the day thrilling to the contest of pitting his wits and subtlety against those of the animals of the forest. And he loved the feeling, at the close of day, when he returned to Camelot, prey in hand, or slung over his horse, his body worn out and longing for a rejuvenating bath, and his mind relaxed and rested from the stresses and strains of running the kingdom. So, when the knights could not join him in a hunting party, Arthur would call for his servant Merlin and set out alone.

Such had been the case today, but although the forest had been alive with the sounds of animals and Arthur had sat in wait in several, normally lucrative locations, he had managed to catch not even a single rabbit. A violent sneeze behind him reminded him why. Arthur reacted by shifting irritably in his saddle.

'You're still angry with me, aren't you?' asked Merlin as his horse plodded along behind Arthur's fine stepping steed.

'We spend the entire day hunting, catch nothing, because every time we got anywhere near anything you sneezed and frightened it away.'

'Not the last time,' Merlin responded.

'No. That time you fell into a stream. No-one could accuse you of being predictable, Merlin.'

Merlin considered this. Had he _fallen _into the stream? It had happened so quickly, he wasn't sure, but he had the feeling he had dropped Arthur's sword just as Arthur was drawing back his bow to shoot at the fine deer that had been approaching the stream to drink. The next thing Merlin had known, he had been flat on his back in the shallow water, the deer no more than a shadow flitting through the trees. But had he _fallen_ down the bank or had Arthur's elbow delivered a sharp jab to his ribs which _pushed_ him off balance and led to his fall? His face twisted with the effort of trying to remember the sequence of events, but his head felt too fuzzy to allow him a clear memory.

'I think I'm getting a cold,' he told Arthur, hoping against all experience for some sympathy from his friend.

Arthur, who alone knew how Merlin had ended up in the stream, and even felt a twinge of shame for allowing his momentary frustration to spill over into a petulant push, hardened his heart so as not to have to admit his guilt to his servant.

'Let's hope it's a bad one,' he growled in return.

Merlin looked at Arthur's disapproving back and knew his hope had been foolish.

Suddenly, a piercing cry ripped through the relative peace of the forest.

Arthur's guard was immediately up.

'What was that?' he asked.

Merlin, too, felt his heart beating faster, and his senses heighten, but it was a long trek back to Camelot and he had been thinking of the warming stew Gaius had promised him on his return. His limbs were beginning to ache with the start of a mild fever and he hoped that if Arthur could be hurried through his bath, there might be time for a soothing one for himself before he collapsed into bed.

'I think it was a bird,' he replied, looking up to the treetops and willing himself to see a crow or a raven to account for the cry. Nothing was visible and the horses stepped on another couple of paces before a much louder, more defined cry came, clearly not from the treetops but from over the brow of the hill they were skirting.

Both men instantly reined in their mounts and Arthur was out of his saddle, throwing off his cloak and reaching for his sword before Merlin could state, needlessly:

'That? That was definitely a woman. Screaming.'

He sat a moment watching Arthur as he began to run for the brow of the hill, sword in hand, and realised that, for the moment, his dinner and bath were going to have to wait.

'Why couldn't it have just been a bird?' he asked himself as he reluctantly dropped the reins and made to dismount. 'It's never just a bird.'

* * *

At the brow of the hill, the trees began to thin and the ground sloped gently down to an open valley containing fields and a poor village of huts. Arthur approached in a crouching run and eased himself behind the trunk of a tree at the outermost edge of the forest to survey the scene in front of him. A bonfire with a stake in the middle of it had been built outside the village and a line of poorly dressed peasants were walking towards it. The foremost of these people carried a flaming torch and walked backwards as though afraid to turn his back on the woman who followed immediately behind him, struggling and fighting with two men on either side of her who were clearly dragging her against her will. It was obvious that this was the woman whose cries had first alerted Arthur. She continued to scream and her cries became more urgent as the procession neared the unlit bonfire.

Arthur heard Merlin approaching him, running to catch him up and also to see what was causing the dreadful lamenting. Merlin stopped behind Arthur for a moment, but before Arthur could speak, he had run on, past the cover of Arthur's tree and down the hill towards the village. Arthur was accustomed to Merlin being the one who followed him when they were out hunting or on patrol, and the servant was often a reluctant follower, nervous in pursuit of prey, be it animal or human, and afraid of the danger. Yet now, here he was, running boldly on, before Arthur had had the chance to assess the situation.

'What are you doing?' Arthur called after him, wondering for one moment if Merlin had yet again lost his nerve and was planning on skirting back round to the horses. But Merlin stopped behind another tree and continued to stare at the scene in front of them while he replied to Arthur in a tone of determination:

'Well I assume you want us to risk our lives and see what is going on.'

By this time, the procession had reached the bonfire and it was immediately apparent exactly what was going on. The men holding the screaming woman were manhandling her onto the pile of wood and were tying her hands behind the stake that stood out in the middle. The rest of the peasants gathered before the pyre with their backs to where Arthur stood, and the man with the flaming torch stood apart from them, watching the tying up of the woman, ensuring the job was done properly. Arthur realised what perhaps his servant had already surmised: that there was no further time to be lost and no further opportunity for stealth. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he felt a moment's admiration for the boy who was clearly growing from the cowardly youth Arthur had once known. Grasping his sword firmly in his hand, he ran down to where Merlin stood.

'I never thought I'd say this, Merlin, but you're learning,' he said as he ran at full tilt out of the forest and across the field towards the gathered crowd.

* * *

At closer quarters, the scene that greeted Merlin as he followed Arthur across the field was a chilling one. The woman on the pyre was a tiny, fragile creature. Her hair was snow white and dishevelled, her clothes badly torn and there did not appear to be enough life in her to have been capable of screaming the way she had done not two minutes earlier. Tied to the stake, unable to free herself, she appeared now to have given up the fight, and she stood limply with her head bowed while the man with the flaming torch brandished it before her. He looked old enough, and carried himself confidently enough to appear to be the headsman of the village, and he had been addressing the gathered villagers but Merlin had been unable to hear what he was saying while he was running. For their part, the villagers had been engrossed in listening to the man and were unaware of Arthur and Merlin's approach.

It appeared little needed to be said between the headsman and the villagers, and nothing at all was said towards the frail woman on the pyre, as suddenly, the flaming torch was lifted aloft, all eyes turned towards the pile of wood, and an air of grim determination crossed the faces of all assembled. At this point, Arthur strode in to their midst, Merlin on his heels.

'Let the woman go,' he commanded.

Heads turned in curiosity and the crowd took in the arrival of the two strangers. Arthur looked magnificent, striding through the line of villagers with an assured air, confident in his lifetime's experience that whatever he commanded would be obeyed instantly. But if he truly believed that, as Merlin suspected he did, he was soon to be disabused.

The village headsman spoke up, returning Arthur's commanding stance with his own authoritative demeanour.

'This woman has been sentenced to death.' Arthur continued to walk towards him, and something in the way that he did so, struck a nerve in the headsman's heart as he continued, somewhat less challengingly, 'It does not concern you.'

Arthur spoke reasonably to him, according the man the respect he deserved as village headsman, but at the same time asserting his much higher authority.

'I am Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot and your village is in my lands.'

Merlin observed the frisson that past through the villagers as they learnt who the armoured stranger was. He had to admit, despite the years he had spent, making mockery of Arthur and his spoilt ways, when it came to a confrontation such as this, Arthur was the master of the situation and impressive in his authoritativeness. The headsman could see it too. His tone became more urgent as he glimpsed for a moment that Arthur might stand in his way.

'Her sorcery,' he said, and the way he spoke the word made it clear it engendered fear and loathing in him. 'has brought sickness and suffering to this village...'

Merlin looked at the old woman with a new understanding and was slightly alarmed to see that the woman herself had lifted her head from its lifeless droop and was looking straight back at him. Her expression was almost one of puzzlement as if she had met Merlin before and was trying to place where. Merlin felt unable to look away from her. His inner magical sense was alerted, probing the aura around the woman, trying to discover the extent of her magical powers but learning nothing. Dimly, he was aware that Arthur had interrupted the headsman.

'Did she receive a fair trial?'

The headsman did not answer him directly. He did not need to, almost as much as Arthur had not needed to ask the question to know the answer.

'Your father would have shown her no mercy,' the headsman challenged.

It was the wrong thing to say to Arthur, Merlin knew. Arthur had loved and honoured his father as a son should, but that did not mean that he approved of everything Uther had ever done. Arthur prided himself always on his fairness and his justice, and since his father's death, had done the best he could not to cloud his memory of Uther by thinking too much about the undoubted cruelties and injustices that had been perpetrated in his name. But word of the new king's clemency and fairness was taking its time to permeate the furthest corners of the kingdom. Arthur took a deep breath and looked the headsman levelly in the eyes.

'I am not my father. Now cut her down.'

The headsman seemed to feel his argument had not been put across to Arthur sufficiently. The king was scarcely more than a boy and certainly not old enough or wise enough to have any understanding of what misery and suffering a witch such as this could do to simple villagers. The crops had been bad for a couple of years now, and his own dear wife had died at the hands of the sorceress who claimed she had a potion that would ease her cough but which instead sent her into a terminal decline almost immediately.

'I will not endanger the lives of all who live here,' he declared and, without waiting for any further comment from the king, he turned to the pyre with his torch held out. In that instant, there was a scraping of steel and the sudden icy touch of cold metal against his throat. Arthur had drawn his sword. Flinching away from the deadly point, the headsman turned and looked into eyes of glacial blue.

'I said...' Arthur spoke low and almost conversationally, but the steel in his voice was matched only by the steel in his hand, 'cut her down'.

There was no doubt in the headsman's mind what would happen if he did not obey.

* * *

After darkness had fallen later that day, Merlin found himself camped in the forest, all hope of a hot meal and a warming bath followed by a good night's sleep in a comfortable bed now but a distant dream. But then, the discomfort of his aching limbs, his fuzzy head and persistent sneezing had also been forgotten, the symptoms having mysteriously abated, as they sometimes do, when adrenalin kicks in, in the face of an even greater crisis. For it was obvious to both Arthur and Merlin that the aged sorceress they had saved from the villagers' pyre was, in fact, beyond saving from an even more certain and terminal end, that of death from the infirmities of old age.

Initially, when the woman had been released from her bondage, and her distressed breathing and inability to stand unaided had become apparent, Arthur had told Merlin they would ride for Camelot forthwith. She clearly needed the attention of Gaius, and Camelot was little more than an hour away at a fast gallop. Arthur had picked the woman up as effortlessly as if she were a child – and indeed, she could have weighed little more than a child, being short in height and scarcely skin and bone – but once they had reached their horses, it became obvious to both men that there was no chance that she could withstand the rigours of an hour's galloping, even were she to share Arthur's horse and have his strong arms supporting her. Reluctantly, but without rancour, they had agreed to camp out for the night, allow the woman some rest, and make a more leisurely journey home in the first light of morning.

Merlin had set about gathering firewood and lighting a fire, while Arthur had seen that the horses were tethered securely. The woman had required little attention. She lay on the ground where Arthur had placed her, his cloak covering her, and appeared to fall into a deep sleep. It was still early enough in the year for nightfall to bring a frost, and, as they had had no food to eat, it hadn't been long before both Merlin and Arthur were huddled around the fire, trying to keep warm. They had kept the woman as close to the heat as they could but it hadn't seemed to have made a difference: every time Merlin reached his hand out to check her temperature against her neck, she seemed that little bit colder than the last time, and her pulse was gradually slowing too.

Arthur had sat uncomfortably, fiddling with his sword and casting anxious glances in her direction. He knew he ought to feel no pity for a sorceress, but somehow the woman's frailty and the fact that she had obviously suffered during her long life did not allow him to condemn her outright. There were many degrees of sorcerers – he had always believed that – some, like Morgana who used their power to corrupt and destroy others, and some whose powers were far less strong who maybe only practised simple magic in the course of their lives. This woman did not strike Arthur as one who had been corrupted by her powers. She had certainly not benefited from them! Her body was thin and her face careworn. She looked like she had never meant anyone harm, had never set out to cause the disasters that had befallen her village. She did not look like Morgana with her evil smile, and her evil plans. Indeed, many of the sorcerers whose executions Arthur had witnessed at the hands of his father, had appeared to be like this woman: simple, unassuming, gentle people. The thought crossed Arthur's mind, not for the first time, that maybe not all magic users were evil, but if that were the case, it would mean Uther had put to death an awful lot of innocent people... and that thought did not sit comfortably with Arthur. Shifting awkwardly, Arthur had turned to look at the woman. He had seen that despite their fire, the heat from it was not getting through to the sorceress. Her hands and lips were turning blue. Startling Merlin, Arthur had suddenly got up, muttering something about fetching more firewood, and disappeared off into the night.

Merlin had watched him go for a moment, half astonished that Arthur should have volunteered to have gathered more firewood rather than ordering his servant to do it, and half proud that the young king was showing signs of becoming less selfish. In truth, Arthur had always been a solid support to his men when they were out on patrol, and had never minded bedding down with his knights, or, for that matter, his servant, when the need arose. Obviously, he didn't consider it his job to make a fire or cook a meal when there was someone else around to do it, but he could muck in and help maintain the safety and comfort of the camp if need be. On this occasion, he clearly felt that Merlin was better occupied attending to the sick woman and so if firewood were needed, he would be the one to fetch it.

Merlin's reverie was interrupted by a sudden outbreak of coughing from the old woman. Bending nearer to her, he became aware that her breathing, which had been light, was becoming ragged and sometimes she appeared to be straining to breathe at all. Her face occasionally contorted with pain and the aura of peace which had surrounded her was broken. Merlin had not spent nearly ten years with Gaius nursing the sick not to recognise the signs of when a life was coming to its end and it seemed that this woman may not be granted an entirely peaceful exit. He stroked her face in an attempt to comfort her, and then looked up when he heard a twig cracking. Arthur was returning carrying an armful of firewood. Seeing Merlin crouched over the woman, he seemed to grasp the situation immediately.

'Is there anything more you can do for her?' he asked, laying the firewood down and moving to crouch beside Merlin.

Merlin shook his head.

'She won't make it through the night,' he replied, stroking her head soothingly.

'Make her as comfortable as possible,' Arthur told him.

Merlin watched the woman a moment longer, noting her struggles to draw air into her lungs, and the contortions of her face. He cursed himself inwardly for failing to listen to Gaius more closely when the old man had lectured him on the care of the dying. He wished his mentor was with them now more than anything! Then he remembered something. About two years ago, an old servant from the castle had reached the end of her days in just such a way as this old woman. Merlin remembered Gaius had tended her in his chamber at the very end, and one of the plants Merlin had been sent out to find to help ease her through her final struggles was the primrose. And it was primrose season now!

'Arthur.' Merlin spoke urgently. 'Have you seen any primroses growing round here?'

Arthur looked up from the old woman, startled. He frowned at his servant and said, 'Don't you think that is a rather inappropriate thing to mention at this time? Look at the woman! She is nearing her end! Can't you do anything for her rather than thinking about whatever flowers you promised the kitchen maid?'

It was Merlin's turn to frown.

'I _am _thinking of her!' he retorted. 'An infusion of the primrose root is used to ease pain. It may even ease her passing,' he continued, unsure of himself but wishing to appear more knowledgeable than Arthur.

'How do _you _know that?' scoffed Arthur.

'I have worked with your court physician for the last nine years,' Merlin reminded him. 'I am not a complete idiot you know.'

'That is a matter of opinion,' returned Arthur but then he abruptly stopped and appeared to be remembering something. 'Wait a minute,' he continued. 'Did you say primroses? I do think I saw some as we were coming away from the village. Near to where we left the horses. Hang on! Where are you going?'

Merlin had risen to his feet.

'I think it will help her,' he said and then he hesitated for a second, wondering if he even knew how to make the infusion if he found the plant. In that momentary hesitation, the old woman cried out and her breathing again became laboured. Arthur looked down at her, concern etched on his face, and then, back up at Merlin.

'Well what are you waiting for then?' he said to his servant. 'Run and find the primroses. Don't worry, I will take care of her while you are gone.' And in that instant, Merlin turned on his heels and ran.

Arthur settled down to wait. But no sooner had Merlin disappeared from sight and his running footfalls had faded into silence, than Arthur was startled to feel the sudden grip of the woman's hand on his arm. Looking down, he saw that she was awake for the first time since they had made camp. Her eyes, which seemed to be too big for her gaunt face, were fixed on Arthur's.

'Thank you,' she whispered hoarsely.

Arthur put his free hand over hers and squeezed reassuringly.

'You should try and get some rest,' he said but his words of comfort were cut short.

'My time,' the woman gasped, 'has come. When you have lived as long as I...you...no longer fear the journey to the next world. Before I go...there is something I need to say to you. You have shown kindness and compassion...those are the qualities of a true king.'

Arthur again squeezed her hand, trying to convey the meaning that there was no need for her to tire herself out with unnecessary words of thanks, but she continued on anyway, seemingly driven to speak by some unknown force.

'It is your fate, Arthur, to be the greatest king … this land has ever known. You ... are the Once and Future King. You will unite the land of Albion. But... you cannot achieve your destiny alone. There is one who is ... close to you, one ... who walks the same path of destiny as you do. One with ... magical power ... greater than has ever been seen before. Without … their … help, you cannot succeed...'

Her voice had been growing fainter and more hesitant and suddenly, it seemed all she could do just to keep her eyes fixed on Arthur's. Arthur gripped her hand tighter, crushing it. His mind was assaulted by all that she had said, but a part of him could see that her time had come, and she still hadn't told him the one thing he needed to know.

'Who?' he demanded, his voice rough with emotion. 'Who is this person?'

The sorceress' eyes lost their focus and her tense body relaxed. With a shuddering sigh, she exhaled her last breath, saying as she did so, 'Emrys.'


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you to those of you kind enough to leave me a review or who have favourited my story. Thank you too, to those who contacted me to tell me it was misleading to say my story was complete when I had posted only the first chapter. I am new to the site, and new to the world of fan fiction, and only meant to indicate that I have written the whole story, and therefore there won't be a long delay between chapters being uploaded. But I have changed the status to 'in progress' so that more readers will not be misled.**

**I want to quickly explain why I wrote this story. It was because I felt dissatisfied with the way series five of 'Merlin' was going. In particular, it seemed to me that Arthur did not gain much from being able to speak to Uther after his death (episode 3 of series 5) and it made me wonder what might have happened if the old sorceress had given Arthur something more useful - something like the knowledge that a sorcerer named Emrys was working close to Arthur. This, I thought, might have changed the course of events for ever. And so my story came into being.**

**Chapter 2 is not as long as some of the chapters, and it is not as action packed, but I felt it was important to delve into Arthur's mind and understand a little of what he is thinking. Please read and review if you feel you can. I hope you enjoy it. And be assured, chapter 3 follows tomorrow, with more action, some humour, and a great cliff-hanger.**

Arthur's Quest

Chapter Two – In search of Gaius

* * *

When Merlin returned with the primroses in his hand, he could see at once that he was too late. Arthur had used his cloak to cover the face of the old woman, and was sitting away from her, staring intently into the flames of the camp fire. At first, he did not seem to notice Merlin, but when he did, Merlin was astonished to see Arthur swipe at his eyes with the back of his hand before quickly standing up. Had he been crying? Merlin wondered. The idea hardly seemed possible. Merlin had seen Arthur cry before, at the death of his father, but never for anyone else, even when childhood friends had died during battles and skirmishes with Morgana and other foes. In fact, Merlin remembered Arthur had quite strong views on the subject of crying. He still vividly recalled Arthur telling him after Balinor had died: 'One thing I always tell my knights: no man is worth your tears.' No man, and surely few women either, and especially not one who, until this afternoon, had been a complete stranger to them both.

Arthur was acutely aware of his servant's gaze and avoided it in the only way he knew how. Abruptly, he kicked at the fire with the toe of his boot, scattering loose soil into it and putting it out. At least now, Merlin would not be able to see his face by the light of the flames.

'There's no point us spending the night out here now,' he said brusquely. 'We'll bury the body and get back to Camelot before Guinevere sends out a patrol to look for us.'

He turned away from Merlin, but in doing so, nearly stepped on the lifeless body that lay there. Hesitantly, he took his cloak from the corpse and Merlin hurried over to help him fasten it around his neck. Ordinarily, Arthur would do nothing for himself that he could make his servant do instead, but this time, he did not welcome Merlin's attempts to help him, and again turned his head away so that his face was hidden. Is he still crying? Merlin wondered. He turned to the sorceress' body, wondering how they were to dig a grave when they had no tools for the job, and was about to ask Arthur the same question when he noticed Arthur's expression as he too gazed at the woman. Her death appeared to have come as a huge shock to Arthur, and there almost seemed to be something like fear in his eyes. His whole demeanour was one of someone whose thoughts were far away from the present. This was so unlike Arthur. Merlin didn't know whether to find it funny or be concerned. On the whole, it was more alarming than risible, but Merlin nonetheless attempted to break through Arthur's mood with a light throwaway comment.

'Come on Arthur,' he said, recalling the words Arthur had said to him just after the Vates had shown Merlin a vision of Arthur falling to Mordred in a bloody battle, 'You've seen a dead body before.'

It was the wrong thing to say. Arthur's expression immediately sharpened as he fixed his cold eyes on Merlin.

'That is so Merlin,' he replied. 'And you know what must be done with them,' and so saying, his lips drew back into a mirthless grin and Merlin became aware that Arthur was holding out to him his hunting knife. 'We have no spade,' Arthur continued in steely tones, 'So _you_ will just have to dig the grave with this. And get a move on: I want to ride back to Camelot as soon as you are done.'

Merlin noted the change of the word from 'we' to 'you' and his heart sank. He looked at Arthur incredulously before reluctantly taking the knife, kneeling on the ground, and starting the long process of digging out a grave with a blade used for skinning rabbits.

* * *

Arthur's mind was in turmoil. It was the next morning and he sat at his desk in his chambers in Camelot, but he did not see the documents before him. He could think of nothing else but the words the old sorceress had spoken to him before she died. The shock of those words had caused him to react emotionally at the time, and he had found it impossible to think things through coherently on the ride home, but he had not slept a wink once he was back in Camelot, and the ideas went round and round in his head.

Some of it had sounded like the usual flattery that he had been accustomed to all his life. It was scarcely possible for him to meet someone, unless they were a foe, and not be told what a great king he was. Many spoke in flowery terms about his destiny, and there were few nobles who were not aware of his desire to unite the warring kingdoms of Albion and bring peace to all the land. But this peasant woman had no reason to know of his noble plans, and anyway, she had not spoken to flatter Arthur but rather in terms which sounded like prophecy. Even so, this alone would not have been enough to cause Arthur any disquiet. True, he was not accustomed to the prose of seers and soothsayers, but neither was he ignorant of their ways, and he guessed many sorcerers couched their predictions in such definite terms in order that their words might carry more weight and sound more portentous. It probably accounted for the curious words she had used: 'You are the Once and Future King'. That struck Arthur as the kind of mystical but basically meaningless phrase that might be used by sorcerers to strike awe into their listeners.

But then there was the part about the sorcerer. She had clearly told him that someone with magical powers was living close to him in Camelot. That _did_ alarm Arthur! His father had purged Camelot of magical people while Arthur was still a little boy. Of course, occasionally, a sorcerer intent on revenge, or an old woman with healing powers, would make their way to the citadel, but punishment for any who were discovered had always been swift and final. Arthur was aware that sorcerers were still at large – there was the old man who Arthur had made the mistake of inviting to the castle to heal his father. The healing spell – if that was even what it had been – had backfired, and Arthur had lived with the grief ever since. And then there were the Druids. Arthur was not convinced that all Druids were magical people, but certainly some of them were. But Arthur had promised the Druids that they could live in peace within his kingdom, and, on the whole, his attitude towards those people whose magical powers consisted of mainly healing spells was the same. As long as they acted discreetly, and did not come to Arthur's attention, he was not going to hunt them down as his father had done.

The powerful sorcerers, who allowed themselves to be corrupted and who brought evil to the land, were another matter. His half sister Morgana was a case in point. Arthur was aghast at the change magic had wrought in his one time playmate and sparring partner. Once so sweet and compassionate for those less fortunate than herself, Morgana had become the embodiment of evil as her powers strengthened. Now a high priestess, she still sought greater power and Arthur was only too aware how much she wanted to get her hands on his throne. Evil such as hers could not be allowed to continue.

But what had the old sorceress said about the sorcerer within Camelot? She had not been referring to someone with mere healing powers. Her words came back to Arthur again: 'One with magical power greater than has ever been seen before.' Could that be true? Arthur shuddered to think of such enormous power held by someone close to him. He had seen enough of the works of great sorcerers – Morgana, Morgause – to know what havoc their power could cause. Who knew what devastation, even now, might be being planned by one in close proximity to him?

But the sorceress had also said something that puzzled Arthur. 'One who walks the same path of destiny as you do. Without their help, you cannot succeed.' What did that mean? How could Arthur ever share a destiny in common with a sorcerer? How could he be beholden to another whose very existence revolved around magic? Arthur was a warrior, a man of honour and justice. A sorcerer could not be any of these things, could they?

Finally, he pondered on the identity of this sorcerer. Emrys had been the name. Arthur had never heard of anyone with this name. He did not even know if it belonged to a man or a woman. Could it be someone living in the town he wondered. But, if that was the case, would the sorceress really have described them as someone who was close to Arthur? Arthur as the king of Camelot still had dealings with some of the townspeople – admittedly, less now than he had had as a prince - but still, some relationships remained. However, he would not have described himself as close to any of the artisans and workers he knew from his princely days. He spent his time primarily with his knights, though he also socialised with the nobles and their families, and of course, the counsellors within the citadel such as Geoffrey of Monmouth, the court archivist, and Gaius, the court physician.

Gaius! Thinking of his trusted counsellor, Arthur suddenly knew what he should do. Gaius had practised sorcery in the days before the Great Purge, and his knowledge of this shady walk of life was second to none in Camelot. Arthur got up and made straight for the door. If anyone could shed light on this matter, Gaius was the man; and also, thought Arthur, as he looked around his room and noted for the first time the state it was in, it would give him the chance to kick that lazy servant of his out of bed. Merlin had not been seen since the early hours of this morning when their horses finally plodded in to the courtyard, and the list of chores he had to do was mounting.

* * *

Arthur burst into Gaius' chamber with little more than a cursory knock on the door. The physician was standing at a table grinding something with a mortar and pestle.

'Gaius!' Arthur began without preamble. 'Where is that lazy good for nothing?'

Gaius regarded him with his usual imperturbable calm.

'My Lord, I'm afraid I have no idea to whom you are referring,' he said deferentially.

'Don't trifle with me, Gaius. I mean Merlin of course. Is he here?' Arthur looked towards the door to Merlin's room which was firmly shut.

'He is, in a manner of speaking,' Gaius replied. 'I'm sorry, my Lord, I thought someone might have told you. I did mention it to Sir Leon when I saw him. Merlin is unwell, my Lord. He will not be able to attend you today.'

Arthur considered this. He remembered he had told the guard outside his chambers not to allow anyone access – he had wanted time to think undisturbed - and he guessed that this was why Sir Leon's message had failed to reach him. Well, be that as it may...

'What's the matter with him?' he asked Gaius. 'He was perfectly all right yesterday.'

Gaius regarded Arthur a moment. He wasn't about to say so, but he did not agree with the king's assessment of Merlin's physical state. When Merlin had staggered in to the physician's chambers in the middle of the night, he had been suffering from an obvious fever and had scarcely been able to stay awake long enough to tell Gaius what had delayed him so long. He had not eaten any of the stew Gaius had kept back for him, and had needed help getting into bed. There had been some sort of garbled story about falling into a stream earlier in the day, and Merlin had been able to confirm that he had been feeling unwell even before that, so Gaius was not unduly worried, but it was obvious to him that Merlin's cold had developed into something a little more serious. Gaius had little doubt that this was the result of a combination of factors, including being made to sit in damp bushes all day while Arthur hunted, lack of sufficient food and water, and having to dig a grave for half the night – all of which was at the behest of Arthur.

'He has a fever, my Lord,' Gaius presently replied. 'I hope it will not prove to be serious, but for the moment, he needs rest and my best herbal remedy' – he indicated the pestle and mortar.

Arthur glanced at the contents and shuddered. It did not look very appetising.

'Very well,' he replied slowly. Thinking about it, he was not unduly perturbed. He welcomed the chance to talk quietly with Gaius without Merlin's stupid grinning face disturbing him. 'Gaius, might I ask you something – in confidence, of course.'

'Of course, my Lord.' Gaius was instantly professional and he indicated a seat Arthur might sit on. 'What is troubling you Arthur?' he said when both of them had sat down at Gaius' table. He could see the colour rising in Arthur's cheeks and he wondered if the fever was infectious. But then he noticed how awkward Arthur seemed to be, fiddling with some jars that stood on the table, and avoiding Gaius' eyes. Internally, Gaius baulked for a moment. Was Arthur going to admit to a more personal disease?

Suddenly, Arthur appeared to gather some resolution. Looking Gaius directly in the eyes, he said:

'Have you ever heard of a person by the name of Emrys?'

Gaius blinked. This was the last thing he was expecting Arthur to say. Involuntarily, his eyes drifted to the door of Merlin's room, and Arthur noted this and also quickly glanced that way. 'Merlin won't be able to hear us, will he?' Arthur asked. 'Only I wish this to remain solely between you and me.'

Gaius inwardly rebuked himself for his momentary lapse of collectedness. He was glad that Arthur had misinterpreted his look, and seized on the mistake to cover his own.

'Do not worry about Merlin overhearing us,' he said. 'He is dead to the world.' Arthur shot a look of concern at him and Gaius waved his hand. 'In a manner of speaking...' he explained.

'So,' Arthur continued, 'Emrys? Does the name mean anything to you? It is a strange name.'

'Indeed,' replied Gaius, gathering himself. 'I can't say I have heard the name before, my Lord. Is there some reason why you ask about it?'

Arthur wasn't sure how much he wanted to say. He couldn't pretend there was no reason for asking.

Briefly, he mentioned the circumstances under which he had met the sorceress the day before, and he explained that she had been rambling during her final moments and had mentioned the name Emrys to him. He thought maybe she was confusing him with someone else, and maybe Emrys had been a relative of hers. If there was a final message Arthur could take to a grieving relative, he would gladly do so.

Gaius listened to the story and was not fooled. It seemed to him that Arthur was an even worse liar than Merlin, but he had no wish to delve deeper into this conversation so thought it best to play along with Arthur's fairytale.

'I am sorry I cannot be of more help to you, my Lord,' he said. Arthur rose to leave. 'But if I hear of anyone of that name, looking for an elderly woman, I will be sure to let you know.'

'Thank you Gaius.'

Arthur left, chewing his lip in thought.


	3. Chapter 3

**Thank you for your continued support. The good (or bad, depending on whether you like being teased with or not!) news is that I have decided to divide my story up a little more, so there will now be seven chapters instead of six. I think this means that the cliff-hangers will be better placed, and it also means I can leave you with a Christmas present as chapter seven will be published on Christmas Eve. Those of you in the UK can then choose, if you so wish, to save my ending as a consolation for after the tv show finishes that evening. **

**Enjoy chapter three, and please review if you like it!**

Arthur's Quest

Chapter Three – In search of Gwen

* * *

On returning to his chambers, Arthur noticed that someone had been in in his absence and tidied the room. The bed had been made, his clothes were no longer lying around the room, and the window had been opened to let in the light spring air. There were even fresh flowers (for Guinevere, not for him of course) on the table. The neatness and precision of the room had all the hallmarks of George's hand. It could not be faulted, but Arthur still would have preferred to have seen evidence of Merlin's sloppy work. Damn the boy! Why did he have to go and get himself a fever right now? Arthur had not wanted to talk to him as they rode home in the night, but now he felt the need to share his burden with someone. Merlin might be cheeky and lazy and clumsy – the list could go on – but Arthur had always found him to be a first rate listener, and his advice sometimes seemed to have the wisdom of a much older man behind it.

Arthur seated himself again at his desk and vaguely cast his eyes in the direction of the official papers he had left there. No, he still couldn't concentrate on them. He needed to know who this Emrys was. He needed to find the sorcerer in his midst. If Gaius didn't know, he couldn't imagine who would. How could a sorcerer be hidden so close to Arthur? Surely they would have given themselves away to someone before now?

Arthur's thoughts were interrupted by the click of the door opening and he lifted his head to see Gwen come into the room. She was, as always, a vision of beauty and Arthur's spirits lifted slightly at the sight of her.

'Arthur,' she smiled, coming over to him. 'You're awake. I hope I didn't disturb you when I got up this morning. I tried to be quiet as I know you got back very late last night...'

'It was this morning actually,' Arthur reached to take the hand she held out to him, and used it to draw her closer to him. 'But no, you didn't disturb me.' He didn't elaborate that the reason she hadn't disturbed him was because he had not been asleep. He did not want to burden her with this matter as he felt sure Gwen would not take the news of a sorcerer in their midst well. Hadn't her father died because he unwittingly helped a renegade sorcerer, and wasn't Gwen also disturbed by the change that had been wrought in her one time friend Morgana when evil magic took over her personality? No, he might need someone to talk to, but he would not upset Guinevere by confiding in her.

'What kept you out so late anyway?' Gwen asked as Arthur drew her closer still and she found herself sitting on his lap. His eyes looked so heavy, his face drawn, she noted in alarm.

Arthur told her what had happened, though missing out the words the sorceress had said to him. Gwen listened sympathetically, and shuddered at the part where the woman was nearly burnt at the stake. 'You did the right thing rescuing her,' she told him after he had finished, 'That would have been a horrible end for her, even though it sounds as though she was guilty of sorcery.'

'We don't know that,' Arthur replied. 'Maybe she was innocent. Maybe she had only attempted some healing spell that went wrong.'

'Like that old man did with your father?'

Arthur shrugged. They both knew how vehemently Arthur had wanted retribution on the old man after his father had died, but what Gwen did not know was that Arthur had since been told by Gaius that the sorcerer had not actually meant any harm to Uther. It didn't entirely make sense to Arthur, but it had made him doubt his earlier reaction. He had sometimes felt himself wishing in the years since his father had passed that he could meet the old sorcerer again and ask him what had truly been his intention, and what, if anything, had gone wrong. He knew nothing could bring his father back, but he just wanted to know, to understand, what had happened on that wicked day when he had been taken from him.

Gwen saw that Arthur's mind was drifting off again and read the trouble in his face. 'Is something troubling you Arthur?' she asked, trying to bring him back to her. 'Did your hunting yesterday not bring you any relaxation or pleasure?'

Arthur snorted, recalling the more mundane events of the previous day, before he had met the sorceress. 'With Merlin in tow?' he said derisively. 'I know he is your friend, Guinevere, and god knows, he is not without his good points, but when it comes to hunting, Merlin really is the most idiotic clotpole I have ever had the misfortune of meeting!'

'And yet, every time you want to go hunting without the knights, you take him with you.' Gwen was amused.

'Yes, well, that is only because I know he hates it so much and it pleases me to watch him suffer. Honestly Guinevere, yesterday, he took his clumsiness to new levels. I caught absolutely nothing because he kept scaring the animals away, and then, he topped it all by falling in a stream.' Wild horses would not have dragged from Arthur the admission that he had, in fact, pushed Merlin into the stream when his clumsiness yet again made Arthur miss his prey. Moodily, he picked up one of the documents but didn't read it.

Gwen smiled and stood up. 'Well, I think he is paying for it now,' she said. 'I saw Leon earlier and he told me Merlin is in bed today with a fever. I sent George in to tidy the room.'

'He'd better not stay in bed too long,' Arthur muttered. 'Or he might find himself without a job.'

Gwen knew not to take this idle threat seriously. One thing was clear to everyone in Camelot: Arthur would never wish to be without his servant Merlin, and Merlin, despite the appalling behaviour meted out to him, did not appear to be interested in doing anything other than serving Arthur. Indeed, it wouldn't have surprised Gwen if she had found out that the cause of Arthur's bad mood this morning was solely the absence of his devoted servant. In the privacy of his chambers, Arthur could be such a spoilt little boy sometimes, and here he was, acting like a child whose toy had been taken away! Arthur threw down the document he had not read and sighed heavily. Gwen went to stand behind him and reached out to massage his shoulders.

'You seem so tense today Arthur,' she said soothingly. 'Let me see if I can work some of my magic on you.'

Arthur's reaction was not what she expected. He leapt from his seat and spun round to face Gwen, his eyes wide and wild with fear and his mouth open. He even reached instinctively to his side, though he was not wearing his sword and there was nothing for him to seize hold of. Gwen jumped back in horror, and held her hands out to Arthur to show that they were empty.

'I meant I would massage you Arthur!' she gasped. 'Try and ease some of the tension in your shoulders.'

Arthur instantly realised what an idiot he had been. For one moment, he had actually thought that Guinevere, his own dear wife, was admitting to being a sorceress. Gwen was staring at Arthur in horror, clearly very disturbed by her husband's uncharacteristic behaviour. Any moment now she was going to make Arthur tell her what was worrying him and he really didn't want to tell her. There was nothing else Arthur could do: if he was to avoid Gwen's questions, he would have to distract her quickly.

'I'm sorry Guinevere, you caught me on a tender spot. I feel a fool having to tell you this, but I... I fell off my horse yesterday and bruised my shoulder. No, no, don't worry about me!' he added hastily as Gwen made a sympathetic cooing noise and made to reach up to his shoulder again. 'Merlin applied a poultice to it at the time, and I have had Gaius look at it this morning. It is fine. I will heal soon.'

Gwen still looked concerned, but it was the concern of a loving wife for her injured husband rather than the alarm and anxiety she had felt earlier when Arthur had been tense and half jumped out of his skin at her touch. He was definitely preoccupied. She had been worried that there had been news of Morgana, or reports of more Saxon incursions, or something equally important. To learn that Arthur was moody through embarrassment at falling off his horse, was a blessed relief, even though of course, the injury could have been worse.

'Oh Arthur! You should have told me earlier. Are you sure you don't want me to take a look?' her eyes twinkled mischievously. 'I could kiss it better if you like.'

'No, no, that won't be necessary,' Arthur said hastily, and then kicked himself inwardly at the brief look of reproach that flashed across Gwen's face. This was getting worse and worse. First the lie – the lies, Arthur had to admit to himself – and now the hurt he was causing Gwen through his rejection of her. 'It really is quite painful,' he said to try to justify his reaction. Gwen nodded, but there was still a tension between them. Arthur thought fast about how to steer the conversation onto safer ground.

'I'm starving,' he announced. 'Shall we eat together? Are you hungry?' He appealed to Gwen with his eyes, inviting her to forget the momentary hurt he had caused her. Gwen was never one to hold onto a grudge and she recognised the rapprochement for what it was and graciously responded.

'I will call for a servant to bring us something,' she said, smiling. 'What would you like? Chicken? Ham?'

* * *

In his chambers, Gaius was a disturbed man. Nothing could have prepared him for the shock of having Arthur asking him if he knew Emrys. How on earth had he come to hear that name? He recalled the time, a few years ago, when Agravaine had come into this very room and asked him the very same question. That time, it had been obvious to Gaius that only Morgana could have told Agravaine about Emrys, but surely, in this instance, Arthur had had no dealings with Morgana? He had nearly died at her hand a few months ago, rescuing the knights from Ismere, but he had made no mention of Emrys on his return. He couldn't have been pondering the name all this time; Arthur reacted far more impulsively than that. Gaius could only conclude that the old sorceress, who Arthur and Merlin had rescued last night, must have said something.

And that being the case, what else had she said? And to whom? Gaius abruptly got up from his seat and headed to Merlin's room. The boy needed rest and sleep, but this was far too important to wait. Merlin was lying, asleep in his bed when Gaius entered. His fever was apparent even from the doorway. His skin was flushed and sweaty, and his blankets were rumpled indicating that his sleep was restless. Gaius approached the bed and sat on the side of it.

'Merlin.'

No response.

'Merlin!'

Merlin tossed from one side to the other and muttered. Gaius put a hand onto his arm to shake him and Merlin murmured something. It sounded something like 'Don't push, Arthur!'

'Merlin!'

At last, Merlin woke up. His eyes focused on Gaius and after a moment of confusion, he tried to sit up.

'Am I late? What time is it?' He saw how the sun, which in early morning streamed through his window, was now high in the sky and he jerked away from Gaius. 'Arthur is going to kill me...'

'Merlin!' Gaius sought to restrain the boy. It was not hard. Merlin found as he raised his head that his whole body felt heavy, and Gaius and the room around him kept going out of focus. He sank back on his pillow and put a hand to the throbbing in his head.

'I'm not well, am I?' he said, slowly remembering the events of the previous day.

'Indeed you are not,' Gaius replied. 'You have a fever. I think it was caused by you falling into a stream yesterday when you already had a cold, though I am wondering now if you did not_ fall _into the stream but were actually _pushed_... Anyway, it does not matter. You will soon be well again.'

Merlin groaned. In his fevered sleep, he had been repeatedly reliving that moment when he fell into the stream. In fact, he had been dreaming that he was hunting with Arthur and every time they came to a stream, Arthur had pushed him into it. Repeatedly. Merlin had wanted to use his magic to make Arthur fall in too, but frustratingly he had kept forgetting the spell that would make Arthur lose his balance. It was a mercy to be released from the repetitiveness of that stupid dream, though now he was awake, he realised he ached all over and felt as heavy as lead.

'Why did you wake me Gaius?' he asked plaintively. 'Has Arthur been asking for me?'

'No... well, yes he has, but I told him you were too ill to work. No, it is not _you _Arthur is asking for.' He paused dramatically, though the moment was wasted on Merlin who was nearly sinking back into sleep. 'It is _Emrys_.'

Merlin snorted slightly as though Gaius had told a joke but Merlin was too tired to respond to it. And then the enormity of what the old man had said sunk in and he opened his eyes wide and again tried to sit up. He got as far as resting on his elbows this time. His head pounded but he forced himself to ignore the pain.

'Arthur has been asking about Emrys?' he repeated incredulously.

Gaius wordlessly nodded.

'How? I mean, what? I mean, why?'

'I don't know more than that,' Gaius replied. 'He asked me if I knew anyone by the name of Emrys and when I said I didn't, he left. Oh, he told a story that the sorceress you met yesterday had mentioned the name, but he made it sound as though she was confusing him for someone else.'

'Do you believe that?' Merlin asked.

'Your fever is befuddling your mind,' Gaius replied. 'Of course I didn't believe him. He is an even worse liar than you are, and that is saying something. But Merlin, I had to ask you if there was any chance she might have said something to Arthur without you hearing it? I see from your reaction that you were unaware they had spoken.'

Merlin thought hard about the sequence of events the night before and realised there had been a time, only the once, when Merlin had left Arthur alone with the sorceress, when he had gone to fetch primroses. But she had been unconscious and in her final moments then, hadn't she? Obviously not. And, with a cold rush of fear, Merlin recalled the funny mood Arthur had been in when Merlin had returned, the way he had refused to meet Merlin's eyes, and had sadistically made Merlin dig the grave alone with nothing but a hunting knife. He also recalled the moment he had first met the sorceress when Arthur had been talking to the village headsman. He had looked long and hard at her because he wanted to be sure she was not about to use her magic on Arthur, but now that he thought about it, she had been looking long and hard back at him too.

'Yes,' he spoke slowly. 'Yes, I think she did have time to talk to him. And I think she may have recognised me for who I am. Gaius, what are we going to do?'

'I don't see there is anything we can do right now. I don't think she told Arthur you were Emrys, if she knew that herself, else Arthur would have acted far more decisively. We can only wait and see what happens next. No-one in Camelot knows your secret so no-one can give you away.'

Merlin nodded and tried to feel reassured. But then he sat bolt upright, all reassurance blown to the four corners of the world.

'Mordred does,' he said.


	4. Chapter 4

Arthur's Quest

Chapter Four – In search of Mordred

* * *

After Arthur and Gwen had finished eating, they sat a while longer at the table, holding hands and talking. Arthur had made superhuman efforts to appear relaxed and untroubled so as not to worry his wife, and Gwen, for her part, had joined in whole heartedly with his choice of conversation even though it revolved, as it often did, around Arthur's band of brothers, his special knights.

'I saw Mordred practising with Gwaine earlier,' she commented, knowing that Arthur took a special interest in his newest young knight. She laughed at the memory. 'Gwaine was fighting with a blindfold, you know, as you sometimes do, and even then he was beating Mordred easily.'

'Gwaine is a master with the sword,' Arthur responded.

'That is so,' conceded Gwen. 'And of course, Mordred was not brought up a noble or even in a court, so it is only natural that it will take him some time to become proficient at all the noble forms of combat.'

'What do you know of Mordred's upbringing?' Arthur asked curiously. In truth, he was trying to make things easier for Gwen. He would far rather have discussed the finer points of swordplay, but he knew this would bore her, so when she mentioned Mordred's background, he thought it would be more enjoyable for her to tell him what she had learnt. Doubtless she had chatted to Mordred at one of the court banquets. Arthur had not yet thought to ask Mordred about his earlier years. It did not matter to Arthur what sort of lowly background his knights came from. Unlike Uther, for whom family and nobility were everything, Arthur preferred to take each man as he found them and judge them on their current conduct and not their family background.

'Well, surely you remember,' Gwen replied. She looked at Arthur with a particularly loving look which told Arthur Mordred's background should have some significance to him. 'Arthur!' exclaimed Gwen half in despair and half amusement. 'You don't remember do you?' Arthur was blank. 'Saving Mordred's life?' Oh yes, that rang a bell. Mordred had said something to that affect when they had met on the way to Ismere. But Arthur had saved many people's lives over the years, maintaining order in Camelot and fighting their many enemies. As Mordred was little older than a boy now, he had clearly been a youngster at the time Arthur had committed his heroic deed and Arthur had not stopped to consider when this had occurred.

'It has always been my duty to protect the citizens of Camelot,' he explained to Gwen, trying to justify why he did not remember this particular act.

'Well, yes, but it wasn't always your duty to protect the Druids!'

'The Druids?!'

Gwen laughed and squeezed Arthur's hand tighter. He could be such an idiot at times! But she loved him for it nonetheless.

'Don't you remember the time a Druid and a boy came to Camelot for supplies and your father's men killed the man but the boy escaped? You spent ages looking for him and eventually found that Morgana had been hiding him? Well... Merlin and I were involved as well but that is beside the point. Uther was going to execute him but you risked everything to get him out of Camelot under your father's nose and return him to the Druids. Surely Arthur you remember that!'

Arthur stared at her speechless. Of course, he remembered it now she had reminded him. In fact, he had never forgotten the time, but he had not associated that innocent little boy with the Mordred he knew now.

'That was Mordred?' he asked. 'I had no idea...' although as the memories came flooding back to him, he realised he had heard the name before. He had asked the boy his name just before he had disappeared into the forest with the Druids. He remembered at the time thinking it a curious name . 'Good god, I never realised...I wonder if Merlin knows?' And then all at once he realised Merlin must know because Merlin had said Mordred's name when they met on the way to Ismere. Being chained up as slaves, being forced to trek without sufficient food and water through the endless frozen wastes of Ismere, escaping and infiltrating the fortress, rescuing his men and nearly dying at the hands of Morgana, all this had prevented Arthur from considering how Merlin had known the name of one of the slave traders without being told, but now it was clear to him.

'Well I never...'

Gwen smiled gleefully as the fog slowly lifted from her husband's countenance.

'You've worked it all out now, have you? I have to say, I admired you for making a former Druid a knight. It showed that you meant it when you said you wanted to bring peace to all the peoples of Camelot. It scares me a bit, I have to admit, because there is no doubt there are some wicked people out there with magic who would want to see you dead, Arthur, but I know yours is the way to a truly just kingdom for all people. I have faith in you...at least, I did.' She broke off giggling. 'I assumed you _knew _you were knighting a former Druid!'

Arthur smiled but his look had become far away again, Gwen noted with a twinge of regret. For Arthur, things were beginning to make sense. Mordred was a Druid. Druids were people who were well known for their magical powers. Mordred must be Emrys!

* * *

Merlin was determined to get up. No amount of reassurance from Gaius could convince him that his secret was safe with Mordred if Arthur was on the search for Emrys.

'But Arthur does not know that Mordred knows about Emrys,' Gaius reasoned.

'No, but if Arthur starts asking around, Mordred is going to hear about it.' Mordred wasn't quite one of Arthur's special knights yet – he was too young and inexperienced to be admitted to that close-knit group – but Arthur had been spending an awful lot of time with his new young protege and word could easily get to Mordred that Arthur was asking after an Emrys. 'I need to speak to Mordred.'

Merlin pushed the blankets off himself and tried to swing his legs off the bed. They ached and protested, and it took all the determination Merlin had to sit up. The room began to spin alarmingly and Merlin took a moment to adjust to this sensation. In that moment, Gaius again tried to reason with him.

'What will speaking to Mordred achieve? You have no reason to think he will divulge your secret to Arthur. He has had plenty of opportunity if he wanted to tell Arthur, but he has not.'

'But until now he has not known that Arthur is looking for Emrys. Maybe now he will see his opportunity. Gaius, I cannot ignore what I saw in the vision the Vates showed me. It was Mordred, and he was killing Arthur. I know it.'

'That is just one possible vision of the future Merlin. It does not necessarily have to come true. Nothing I have seen in Mordred leads me to believe that he wishes Arthur anything but good. And nothing he has done whilst he has been in Camelot leads me to think he means you any harm either.'

Merlin had to admit that this was true, but the vision remained with him, and also the words of Kilgharrah that the Vates' power of prophecy was unrivalled even by a high priestess. It seemed to him that if Mordred was destined to kill Arthur, then he wouldn't be feeling too friendly towards Merlin either. He might not be showing his enmity now, but that didn't mean he might not seize an opportunity if one came to him. Who knew what game Mordred might play? All that mattered was being one step ahead of him.

'I need to speak to him,' Merlin repeated and this time he managed to get to his feet.

'And what will you say?' challenged Gaius as Merlin grabbed his jacket and headed unsteadily towards the door.

'I don't know. I suppose I will just warn him. Let him know that I know...' Merlin trailed off. He didn't actually have a clue what to say to him. 'I'll work it out when I get there,' he finished lamely.

'Merlin!' Gaius could see that this was a bad idea, but Merlin moved with surprising speed and he was already out of the door.

He thought he knew where Mordred would be. Every morning, Mordred trained with Arthur and the other knights. The training was hard physical work, particularly when Arthur was in charge, and after it, most of the knights liked to eat and spend some time together before attending to their other duties. There was a large room just off the kitchens where the knights gathered to eat if they were not eating with the king, and Merlin could smell the fragrance of hot food wafting down the passage. It made him feel rather sick on this occasion but he did his best to ignore the physical symptoms from which he was suffering. Others did not, however. The corridors were full of people, mainly servants, all of whom couldn't help but notice the dreadful state Merlin was in, and most of whom seemed anxious to avoid going near him for fear of catching his infection. Just as Merlin entered the kitchen corridor, he saw, through the crowd of servants, Arthur coming out of the knights' refectory with Mordred behind him. They stepped in to a small storage room on the other side of the corridor, and Merlin just had time to creep into the neighbouring storage room. He knew that, although each room had its own door into the corridor, they were also linked internally, separated from each other by cloth screens rather than doors. In these rooms, the vast stores needed to feed and service the citadel were kept. Merlin found himself in a room full of barrels of ale. He edged closer to the screen separating him from the room Arthur and Mordred were in, and concealed himself from anyone who might enter his room by hiding behind a barrel. Away from the hustle and bustle of the corridor, he could hear what was said next door easily.

* * *

Arthur had wasted no time in questioning Mordred. Telling Gwen he had matters of state to attend to, he had left his chambers, and, like Merlin, known exactly where to go to find Mordred. The young knight was sitting at table with Sir Leon and a number of other knights, the remains of a large bowl of stew before him along with crumbs of bread and a tankard that had contained mead. When Arthur entered the room, Sir Leon was in the process of giving the knights their orders for the rest of the day. They were about to leave on a patrol into the forests surrounding Camelot. At the sight of Arthur, they all stood up. It wasn't unheard of for Arthur to come into their refectory, but on the whole he tended not to. Arthur smiled easily, though inwardly he felt far from at ease, and waved his hand to indicate that they should all sit. He passed a couple of comments to one or two knights before approaching the table where Mordred sat.

'A word before you ride, Mordred,' he said quietly. 'Perhaps outside?'

'Certainly, my Lord.' Mordred responded willingly.

He led the young man into the corridor and then to a nearby storage room where he thought they might not be overheard so easily.

'Let's talk in here.'

The light was dim in there, but there was a window of sorts set high in the wall and Arthur pulled back the shutter to let in more light. He wanted to be able to see Mordred's reactions when he spoke to him.

Mordred followed his king into the small space and wondered what on earth was going on. Had he displeased Arthur in some way? Usually if the king wanted to speak to one of his knights, he summoned him to the council chamber or his own private chambers. Mordred had not been a knight long, but he felt it must be highly unusual to be conversing with the king in a storage cupboard. Arthur did not seem to be quite his usual self either. He was usually very kind towards Mordred, indulgent even. The other knights all teased Mordred for being like a son to the king although he was clearly far too old to actually be Arthur's son. Today, however, Arthur looked at him with an expression that could only be described as intense. He appeared to be scrutinizing Mordred, and his eyes lacked their customary twinkle.

'You wished to speak with me, my Lord?' Mordred said, trying hard to act nobly as a knight should and not to squirm under Arthur's intense gaze.

'Indeed,' Arthur replied. 'The Queen tells me that you are a Druid.'

It was a ludicrously abrupt way to start the conversation and Arthur cursed himself. Mordred's own expression hardened imperceptibly. He wasn't sure what to say. He knew in theory that Arthur had promised the Druids that they would be treated with the respect they deserved, and indeed no more raids had been made on Druid camps, and no Druids had been imprisoned or killed since the day Arthur had declared that edict, but none of this meant that Arthur was prepared to accept Druids as knights of Camelot. The very fact that he was asking, surely was a bad sign. Mordred spoke cautiously.

'I was raised by the Druids, Sire.'

'What do you mean by that? Do you mean you are not a Druid yourself?' Arthur's stare was just as intense.

What was this about? Mordred was glad he had learnt the calming meditative ways of the Druids as it enabled him now to appear outwardly peaceful while internally his brain scampered to keep up with the questioning.

'The Druids raised me Sire,' he repeated calmly, 'when my mother died and my father was not able to look after me. I was not born a Druid.' It was the truth, but what he did not say was that the Druids only took children to raise if they saw that they had gifts such as would make them suitable to be apprentices.

Arthur considered these words. He wasn't sure they meant Mordred could still be Emrys or not. The Druid way of life was hidden from most people and their secrets were rarely told, but even had they been widely known, it was not likely Arthur would have had much knowledge of them as he had very little interest in the mystical side of life. He decided to try and put Mordred at his ease before asking what he truly wanted to know. He put his arm out to Mordred's shoulder and looked him deeply in the eyes, a smile on his lips.

'Don't look so worried, Mordred. Whether you are a Druid or not, is of no concern to me. I promised the Druids would live in peace, and I do not intend to go back on my word.'

Mordred responded to his friendly squeeze on the shoulder, by smiling back.

'I am glad to hear it my Lord,' he said.

'I am sure there are many things you could tell me about the Druids' approach to life,' Arthur continued. 'I believe I once heard tell of a great Druid by the name of Emrys...'

A small thud sounded from outside, or was it the next door room? Both men heard it and Mordred looked towards the doorway, but Arthur, who had just declared his hand and was anxious to know what was in Mordred's, dismissed the noise with a muttered, 'Rats.' Mordred turned back to the king, uncertain how to go on.

'I think the name was Emrys,' Arthur continued carelessly, trying to coax Mordred into speaking. 'Is it a name you know?'

'It is a very well known name amongst the Druids,' Mordred replied gravely. Arthur's look intensified. At last, he had found someone who already knew the name! He listened amazed as Mordred continued. 'Emrys is the most powerful sorcerer who has ever lived. He is a man destined for greatness. A man who will one day unite the powers of the old world and the new, and bring about the Albion the poets speak of.'

Arthur stared at Mordred, thinking hard. Although the Druid prophecy meant nothing to him, he could not deny it was a powerful message. Could such a man be living within their midst? What did the prophecy mean for Arthur? One question burned above all others. It did not seem Mordred was Emrys. He had spoken with the deepest respect about the man; his eyes still shone with the awe and reverence that had been conveyed by his words. Arthur looked him deeply in the eyes.

'Do you know who Emrys is?'

This time the noise next door was unmistakeable and could not be dismissed as rats. There was a sharp crack followed by a flump as something soft hit the ground. Mordred reacted quickly, but Arthur was quicker still. In one fluid movement he drew his sword, swept back the cloth screen separating one room from another and leapt into the doorway. The next door room was darker than the one they had been in as the shutter that covered the high window was half closed. For a moment Arthur could make out only the barrels, but then Mordred gasped behind him,

'Merlin!'

Arthur looked down. On the floor, half concealed by the casks, Merlin lay in a dead faint.

* * *

**This chapter arose mainly from a conversation I had with other Merlin fans about whether Arthur knew Mordred was a Druid when he knighted him, and whether all Druids had magic, and therefore, whether Arthur knew he was knighting someone with magic. I prefer to think he did not know, and hence came up with the contents of this chapter. I have also kept Mordred's magic hidden from Arthur by implying Mordred was not born a Druid - that is entirely a stance I have taken for this story, and not how I see the tv character. I hope I have also kept Mordred a little ambiguous for you so you want to read on.**

**Please feel free to review. I love reading other people's comments. :-)**


	5. Chapter 5

Arthur's Quest

Chapter Five – In search of Gwaine

* * *

Merlin came to, to find himself back in his bed. Gaius was sitting on the edge of the bed mopping his brow with a damp cloth, his body obscuring the view of the rest of the room.

'Merlin! You're awake,' Gaius said, and at the same time he indicated with a movement of his eyes and a wink that they were not alone but that Merlin was not to worry. Merlin looked beyond Gaius and saw Arthur standing against the wall staring at him intently. Gaius continued in an affectionate tone.

'I shall need to keep a more careful eye on you, my boy. I turn my back for a few moments and you are off sleep walking!'

Merlin attempted a weak smile while inwardly he struggled to understand what had happened. He remembered where he had been before he fainted, he remembered Arthur questioning Mordred, and what his final question had been. What he could not remember was if Mordred had answered it or not. He tried to read Gaius' face but it was not giving anything else away. Gaius reached for a small bottle of clear liquid and said,

'I want you to drink this.'

'What is it?' Merlin tried to resist but Gaius brooked no opposition.

'It will make you feel better,' he said, pouring the potion into Merlin's reluctant mouth.

To Merlin's surprise, it didn't taste unpleasant. Merlin smiled wanly at Gaius and Gaius smiled back.

'Well, I will leave you now to rest,' he said, and he got up and left Merlin and Arthur alone together.

The two friends looked at each other warily. Merlin had no idea what Mordred had told Arthur and Arthur in turn was unsure how to speak to Merlin. He was not accustomed to men fainting and having to carry them through the citadel in his arms. At least he could tell that Merlin was not faking illness: even Merlin would not pretend to faint and have the embarrassment of being carried back to bed. Arthur was not known for his sympathetic approach to his servant, but Merlin was truly shocked when he finally spoke.

'So, your secret is out now Merlin.'

'It is?' Merlin's heart started pounding.

'It is. You should have known better than to keep anything from me.'

'I should?' Merlin could only repeat stupidly. So this is it, he thought. After all these years, the lies, the hiding, the pretending to be a fool. He wondered what was going to happen to him, how much Arthur knew, what Mordred had told him.

'Yes, you should,' Arthur continued sternly. 'And don't suppose for a moment that I believed Gaius when he said you were sleep walking. I know you like to spend time in the tavern but this is going too far.'

'What?' Merlin's racing thoughts came to a screeching halt and stood still for a moment, dithering. What did that mean?

Arthur sighed. He could see that Merlin was not going to make a confession and that he, Arthur, would have to confront the problem head on.

'I was there, remember? There is no point denying anything.'

Merlin made a wordless noise. He had no idea what was happening now. Arthur continued in the patronising tone of voice he used when he was lecturing Merlin.

'We all like to spend a day in the tavern from time to time, though you seem to do it more often than anyone else. Well, apart from Gwaine maybe, but that is beside the point. It is one thing to spend an occasional day in the tavern, but when you take to raiding the castle stores of ale, even when you are so ill you should be in bed, then that is when you have a real problem, don't you think?'

'Oh.' It was all Merlin could think of to say.

'Yes, oh,' Arthur repeated. 'Seriously Merlin. Sort yourself out. I wouldn't want to have to sack you because you became … well, unreliable.' Arthur cocked an eyebrow at him, waiting for a response that, for some reason, Merlin was slow in giving.

At last he seemed to realise what was expected of him and said quietly, 'Yes Arthur. Thank you, Sire.'

Arthur nodded and left the room. Merlin lay for a moment, feeling his heart rate diminish, before the potion Gaius had given him had the intended effect and he fell into a deep, restorative sleep.

* * *

That evening, Arthur lost no time picking up where he had left off with Mordred. He invited many of his knights to dine with him in the council chamber and, since these occasions involved a lot of drink and raucous behaviour, it was not difficult to draw Mordred aside for a while and converse with him privately. But Mordred was not able to help Arthur. He told him again that Emrys was a highly regarded figure among the Druids, but that it was mainly his name and the prophecy that were known about. He did not know who Emrys was. Arthur was bitterly disappointed, so much so that he over-indulged somewhat in the drinking, without a hint of irony considering the way he had lectured his man-servant only hours before. In fact, he became so drunk that, in lieu of Merlin, Guinevere had to steer him back to his chambers and help him undress, and he was snoring before his head hit the pillow. The lack of sleep the previous night, as much as the over-consumption of ale, allowed for this.

The next morning, Arthur woke late. The identity of Emrys was immediately at the forefront of his mind again. He had asked the two people he felt might have been able to enlighten him, Gaius and Mordred, and neither had known who Emrys was, although Mordred's knowledge, that Emrys was a sorcerer who was destined for greatness and would unite Albion, was of great interest to Arthur. He didn't understand how a sorcerer could want what he himself wanted, but it made him question the years of enmity Uther had shown towards all people with magical powers. Arthur realised that, if ever he could identify who Emrys was, he wouldn't automatically want to execute them as his father would have done. But how would he ever discover who Emrys was? If only he had someone to talk to about this. Not for the first time, Arthur had to stop himself from calling out for Merlin. He missed the boy so much! He realised how much he depended on him, not just for his serving skills, but also for his counsel.

As he lay in bed, thinking about his lazy servant and comparing his incompetence with the image he had of a powerful sorcerer, working for the good of Camelot, his thoughts were interrupted by Gwen coming in. Her years as a maidservant meant that she was accustomed to rising early and she was often up before Arthur had woken. Seeing him awake, she smiled and came over to give him a good morning kiss. Arthur tried to respond as affectionately, but his mind was not on the task and Gwen was no fool.

'What is the matter, Arthur?' she asked, breaking away from him to look at him.

'You're too far away from me,' Arthur responded, trying to pull her nearer to him again. But this time Gwen was not to be deflected from her inquiries. She put out a hand to stop his approaches and frowned at Arthur so he knew she meant business.

'Please. I want to know. You have not been yourself since you came back from your hunting trip. I know there is something you are not telling me. Are you worried about Merlin?'

Arthur scoffed. 'Merlin? He'll recover soon. He's only trying to get a day off.' Although it had been two days now, Arthur realised.

'Well, what then? Don't tell me it is your shoulder again. I did not see any sign of an injury when I undressed you last night.' Arthur, she noted, had the grace to blush slightly at the realisation that his lie had been uncovered. 'Was it the sorceress you met? Did something happen you are not telling me? Please Arthur, I am so worried. I want to share whatever burden you carry.'

Arthur sighed. There was no escaping from this. It came as no surprise to him that Gwen could so easily guess at the source of his concerns, since Gwen's wisdom and perspicacity had long been known to him, but he felt renewed admiration for her nonetheless. Slowly he nodded.

'You are always an invaluable support to me Guinevere,' he said, ' and I was foolish to think I could keep anything back from you. But I want you to know, I was only trying to protect you.' He went on to tell her the words the sorceress had spoken to him before she had died and how he had spent the intervening time trying to work out who Emrys was, including his encounters with Gaius and Mordred.

Gwen listened soberly and when he had finished, her eyes had a far away look about them.

'Emrys?' She spoke thoughtfully, and then, remembering something, she said: 'I've heard that name before!'

'You have?' Arthur was astonished. Of all people, he had not expected Gwen to know anything about a sorcerer.

'And you have too Arthur, ' she said, turning to look at him. 'Don't you remember? When Morgana tried to take your throne with Helios and the Southrons. We met her in the council chambers...'

Arthur started. Suddenly, he could hear the echo of some past words in his mind and he repeated them softly out loud: ' "I'm going to enjoy killing you Arthur Pendragon. Not even Emrys can save you now." ' They had been Morgana's words, of course.

'I did not understand what she meant at the time,' Gwen, who was remembering the words with him, murmured.

'So Morgana knows about Emrys!' he reflected aloud.

'She not only knows about him,' Gwen joined in. 'Surely, from the way she spoke of him, she knows that whoever he is, he is in alliance with you.'

Arthur nodded in agreement. The old sorceress had suggested as much of course, but to have evidence of it from Morgana, the one person above all others who had no reason to wish him well, was powerful reinforcement. It gave him comfort to think that Morgana had implied that Emrys was not on her side but Arthur's. That made him feel even more positive towards him, whoever he may be.

'What are you going to do now?' Gwen asked.

'I need to find out who Emrys is,' Arthur replied.

'You need to be careful, Arthur. Your views on magic and sorcerers are well known throughout Camelot. You do not want to make your search for this Emrys obvious or you may frighten him away.'

'My views on magic have changed somewhat.' Arthur spoke cautiously. Hearing these words from his lips for the first time took some getting used to.

'I can see that, but a sorcerer who has been in hiding so long, who has lived for so many years in a land where sorcery is forbidden and punishable by death, he may not find that so easy to believe.'

Arthur could see the sense in that. He looked at Gwen consideringly. To think that only a few moments ago he had been lamenting the lack of Merlin's counsel! He had not bargained on Guinevere! He was blessed indeed to have a wife as wise and as forthright with her opinions as she.

'I thank you for your counsel, Guinevere, ' he said resting a hand on her arm. 'I do not know what I would do without you. I will be careful, you have no reason to worry about that.'

She smiled at him, and then left, saying she would call for someone to come and help Arthur bathe and dress.

When she had gone, Arthur lay a while longer, thinking about who had been with him at the time of meeting Morgana, wondering if there was anyone he had not considered who might be able to shed light on the identity of Emrys. Alas, no. Apart from Gwen, he recalled he had been with Tristan and Isolde, and Merlin. Isolde had died minutes later; Tristan had left Camelot shortly after order was restored and had not been seen or heard of since; and Merlin... well, Merlin was just a serving boy. A wise serving boy, Arthur could not deny it; his counsel had proved invaluable on many an occasion, but he had come, an innocent, from a poor village when he was still a boy, and since becoming Arthur's servant, he had scarcely left his side. Also, he was so timid when it came to things like sorcery! It was not possible that he could have encountered a sorcerer and not blurted it to Arthur. No, there was no-one left for Arthur to ask. He would just have to work this one out by himself.

A respectful knock at the door disturbed Arthur's thoughts. Ordinarily at this time, it would be Merlin on the other side, poking his head around the door and grinning cheekily at Arthur, ready with some excuse as to why he was late. Arthur smiled at the thought, and also at the certainty he felt that it was not Merlin who had come to attend him today. Merlin never knocked respectfully! Sure enough, when he bade the person to enter, George made his appearance. Arthur sighed and resolved to escape to the armoury as soon as he could.

* * *

In the armoury, Arthur's closest band of knights – Sir Leon, Sir Percival, Sir Gwaine and Sir Elyan – were all disarming themselves after a morning of training. The mood between them was as usual: much bantering and teasing and a certain amount of parading and display although there were no ladies around to see them. Even so, competition was always high between the four. Each man, although highly expert in the use of all weapons, favoured a different form of combat. For Leon, the cross-bow was a thing of beauty and he was considered unrivalled in his accuracy with the weapon. For Percival, taller by half a head than the next man and with muscles twice the size of many another fine knight, the mace was his weapon of choice. Elyan enjoyed nothing better than hand to hand wrestling, his lithe body being deceptively strong. And Gwaine could do things with a sword that all the others could only dream of. Only Arthur came anywhere close to beating Gwaine in a sword fight; indeed, before he had arrived in Camelot, Arthur had been the undisputed champion swordsman in the land, but Gwaine had soon supplanted the prince with his fancy swordplay. That said, Arthur could give each knight a run for his money in each of their chosen means of combat. That was the wonder of the king, that he was proficient in so many fields. But even he had his favourite activity: the highly dangerous and daredevil jousting. No knight, from Camelot or from neighbouring kingdoms, had beaten Arthur in a joust since he had become old enough to compete in this sport.

As each man favoured a different form of combat, they each considered themselves the best in that field, and so it had been a great humiliation to Percival this morning to find himself well and truly thrashed by Gwaine in a fight with maces. He had returned to the armoury with quite a few nasty bruises across his body, and a substantial cut to his upper arm, which he nonetheless made light of and had wrapped a piece of cloth around in order to stem the bleeding. Gwaine was merciless in victory and as Arthur entered the armoury it was in time to hear him boasting:

'I could take any of you boys on, with whatever weapon you choose, and I guarantee I could whip your ars...Arthur!' he exclaimed, catching sight of the king. 'Where have you been all morning? We missed you in training. Were you afraid of facing me? I seem to remember I had the better of you last time we drew swords against each other.'

Arthur shot him a withering look, but was smiling too.

'In your dreams Gwaine. My memory of our last combat was that I had to use my left hand to give you a chance.'

The other knights guffawed loudly at Gwaine's expense but Gwaine was not to be repressed.

'I still stand by what I was saying,' he said. 'If any of you are brave enough to challenge me, I will guarantee to take you on, with your weapon of choice, and I predict without a shadow of doubt that I will beat the lot of you.'

He was met with shouts of friendly derision. A gauntlet, picked up from a nearby table, was thrown at his head, and Elyan feinted a few wrestling moves in front of him. Arthur, who had come to the armoury to escape from George and to think in his favourite environment, had not expected to find the knights still occupying the room and now sought a way of gaining the peace he wanted. He noticed Percival's wound and went over to him.

'You should get Gaius to check that for you,' he said. 'Here Gwaine! Since I am guessing this is your handiwork, you can take Percival up to Gaius' chambers to get this looked at. And see if my lazy servant is feeling any better today. Leon, I believe you are in charge of guard duty today. Elyan...er... Guinevere was looking for you earlier.' It was a lie, of course, but it worked. The knights took the hint that Arthur wished to be alone, and they all filed out, still murmuring friendly taunts to each other and pushing slightly in the doorway.

Arthur waited for the door to close and sat down with a sigh. It had warmed his heart to see his knights, his special knights, joshing together. It was good to witness something so normal and uncomplicated and hearty as those four men, so obviously comfortable in each other's company that they could boast and tease with no fear of causing offence. Arthur revelled in that sort of company. The plain, honest, upright company of the knights. None of them could possibly be anything so strange and mystical as a sorcerer. Or could they?

Discarded on the bench next to him was the gauntlet that had been thrown at Gwaine's head. Arthur picked it up and wryly thought about Gwaine and his boasts. Had he really challenged them all to single combat with whatever weapons they chose? It was a bold thing to do. He might have landed a few lucky strikes on Percival with the mace this morning, and possibly he could take on Elyan in a wrestling match, but only because Gwaine had spent far too much of his time wrestling strangers in tavern brawls when he had drunk too much ale. But to challenge Leon with a crossbow was laughable, and no-one, _no-one_, had beaten Arthur jousting.

Arthur thought hard. The sorceress had said that Emrys was close to Arthur. There could be no-one closer to him, apart from Guinevere of course, than his very special knights. They were his band of brothers, and closer to him even than Arthur imagined a blood brother could be. Perhaps one of them was the sorcerer? It sounded ludicrous but Arthur couldn't imagine anyone else he knew having magical powers either. Emrys was said to walk the same path of destiny as Arthur, and Mordred said he would unite Albion. Who but the knights were walking the same path as him and surely they all wanted Albion as much as he did? Morgana had commented on Emrys not being there to save him. Who normally would be there to watch Arthur's back but his knights? That being so, his thoughts turned again to Gwaine and his extraordinary boast that he could beat all his fellow knights and his king in single combat.

Gwaine had always had astonishing fighting skills, now that Arthur thought about it. When they first met, and Gwaine had defended Arthur in the melee against the two thugs posing as Sir Ethan and Sir Oswald, his sword skills had had the Camelot crowds gasping in awe. Later, Arthur had come across Gwaine fighting as the slave trader, Jarl's, champion. Later still, when Morgana had captured Camelot and was holding some of the knights in the dungeons, she had repeatedly picked Gwaine to fight her band of renegades for food. Elyan and Gaius had told Arthur later when he had regained his throne that Gwaine had seemed to have the power of three men, for, despite hardly having anything to eat, he had managed to defeat warrior after warrior even when facing opponents with weapons against his bare hands. It had been a source of pride for Arthur and his band of brothers in the after glow of their victory, but in the light of this revelation that a sorcerer was in Camelot, Arthur suddenly saw it differently. Maybe Gwaine was using magic to win his fights.

That must be it! Arthur sat up straight and his mind raced. Yes! It all fit! Gwaine had always kept his background hidden from Arthur. He had no idea where he came from, or from what sort of family, or what his history had been before he swaggered into Arthur's life that day in the tavern. Arthur knew Elyan was a blacksmith's son, and Percival's family had been killed by Cenred, but Gwaine's background was a complete mystery. Why keep such matters hidden unless there was something more that Gwaine was also concealing? Arthur recalled how Gwaine had often taken a perverse delight in speaking discourteously about Uther, even in front of Arthur. Of course! He would feel particular enmity towards the man who had instigated the Great Purge on all magical people. Emrys was supposed to be someone close to Arthur. Well, Gwaine was close to Arthur, and, as a knight, it could be said he had chosen to walk a similar path in life to Arthur. His fighting skills were suspiciously good however for one who had not been trained since birth, as Arthur had, to kill. If he were using magic to aid him in his fights, it would explain his awe-inspiring skills with a sword and account for how he had survived so many unequal fights, first as Jarl's champion and then as Morgana's puppet. And if Morgana had used Gwaine for her own entertainment in the days leading up to Arthur's recapturing of Camelot, then that would explain how she knew that Emrys was not in a fit state to help Arthur. Moreover, the sorceress had said that Arthur would not be able to succeed in uniting Albion without Emrys' help. What greater help could a king need than that of a supreme combatant?

Arthur's face, which had for the last two days had been ravaged by worry and confusion, now slowly relaxed, and a smile broadened across his lips. He twisted the idea around his head for a few moments longer, but it all fit so perfectly he almost wondered how he had not discovered Gwaine's secret for himself years ago. He had thought this mystery would be impossible to solve, and had cursed Merlin for not being available at just the time he needed to hear his words of wisdom, but, as it turned out, Arthur was more than capable of working this out all by himself. As he began to make plans for exposing Gwaine, Arthur had one final thought that broadened his grin even further and actually made him laugh out loud with the deepest satisfaction: if Gwaine was using magic in his sword fights, that meant he was not capable of beating Arthur on swordplay alone. Arthur was still the best swordsman in Camelot!


	6. Chapter 6

**Wow, thank you for so many positive reviews to chapter five. I'm glad it was such a success. This chapter was harder to write. Please review it kindly.**

Arthur's Quest

Chapter Six – In Search of Emrys

* * *

The opportunity to expose Gwaine arose sooner than Arthur expected, and since Arthur's plan involved risking his own life, he felt, on the whole, glad of this. He did not want too long to think about what he intended doing. He had always been an impulsive boy, and, although Uther had taught him the value of tactics and planning, there was still a part of the young king who relished the 'act now, think later' approach. And so it was a relief for him to hear, later that same day, that some of the knights, Gwaine among them, were going to fit in some extra training that afternoon. Arthur seized his chance.

'I will join you later,' he announced to the knights, and then, more quietly as he passed him: 'Be sure to reserve some time to match swords with me, Gwaine.'

'It will be an honour to assist in improving your swordplay, Sire,' Gwaine responded cheekily.

As Gwaine and the other knights departed for the armoury, Arthur went to check on the state of his useless servant. It occurred to him, also, that he would welcome hearing the advice of his trusted physician.

Arthur entered Gaius' chambers and found Gaius was alone, reading.

'Sire,' Gaius greeted him. 'To what do I owe the honour of your visit?'

Arthur strolled up to Gaius' table.

'Still no sign of Merlin?' he asked casually, looking around him as he approached, as though expecting to see Merlin hiding under a table or behind the door.

'No, Sire,' Gaius responded firmly. He now had reason to suspect that Arthur had been responsible for his ward's fever in a more direct way than Gaius had previously supposed. The dreams about being pushed into streams had continued as Merlin's fever had raged on, and Merlin's ramblings had told Gaius all he needed to know. Arthur detected the slight edge in Gaius' voice, misinterpreted it as a sign the physician might be lying, and shot him a stern look.

'Are you sure? He hasn't slipped out to see his friends in the tavern?'

Gaius returned the look with one of his own which expressed enough outrage that, had Merlin had seen it, even he would have quailed. Arthur did not think that befitting his status as king, however, and he held his ground. Wordlessly, Gaius rose, climbed the steps to Merlin's room, and opened the door sufficiently for Arthur to see his servant lying peacefully asleep.

'Satisfied, my Lord?' he asked as he shut the door, and returned to his desk.

Arthur raised an open hand to pacify Gaius and said apologetically, 'Entirely, Gaius. I am sorry I doubted you.'

The apology was enough to placate Gaius immediately. He knew he was partially responsible for Arthur's belief that Merlin spent all his free time, and not an inconsiderable amount of his non-free time, in the tavern. If only Arthur knew the truth! It would ease the old man's burden greatly if he did not have to keep covering up for Merlin. Although he was a little cross with Arthur for his treatment of Merlin on this occasion, Gaius had to admit that Arthur's concern for his servant's well-being was genuine. With this in mind, his frostiness towards the young king melted.

'Merlin is actually much better today,' he told Arthur. 'The fever has broken and, although he is resting now, I am confident that he will be up and about soon. Maybe even later today.'

Arthur nodded. 'That is good to hear,' he said. 'Your skill as a physician is without equal.' A bit of flattery never went amiss, Arthur thought. Gaius inclined his head graciously. 'Gaius,' Arthur continued, 'I believe you had to tend to Sir Percival earlier. What can you tell me about his wound?'

'Ah yes,' Gaius responded. 'He is a fortunate man. It is a deep wound, Sire, and I have told him that he is not to train for at least a week, but it could have been a lot worse. Such a deep cut on the upper arm, it is an inconvenience, but it will heal. The same wound in the upper leg could well prove fatal.'

'I thought as much,' Arthur replied, and nodding his thanks to Gaius once more, he left for the armoury.

* * *

When Arthur walked out on to the training field, it was to see that all the knights but one were fully engaged in one fight or another. The one bystander was Percival, who, despite being ordered not to train by Gaius, was nevertheless enjoying the spectacle of watching his friends duelling each other. Arthur, too, took his time to watch for a moment, and was in time to see Gwaine make short work of Leon with a sword. No matter how hard he looked for it, though, Arthur was unable to spot where or when Gwaine was using sorcery. In the end, he came to the conclusion that Leon was too easy an opponent for Gwaine to need to use magic. Leon was a tall man, after all, a little ungainly at times, and that made him comparatively slow.

The two knights, their duel over, approached Arthur who was standing by the sword rack and table with refreshments on. Each left their swords resting in the rack and took a skin of water and drank long and deep. Arthur saw his chance and said:

'Nice work, Gwaine. Now that you have warmed up, how about a contest with me?'

Gwaine was barely out of breath. He looked at Arthur sideways as he wiped his mouth, a smile of anticipation on his lips. Making a mock bow, he said, 'It would be an honour, my Lord.'

Arthur smiled back. He had already selected a sword from the rack, and indicated that Gwaine should do the same. As he walked off to the centre of the practice area, he said to Percival, 'This will teach him,' and began to swing his sword around expertly, loosening his wrist and getting a feel for the blade. Gwaine followed, and once Arthur had nodded briefly to him, indicating he was ready, he launched into a fast and furious attack. Arthur held off the flashing sword easily. He knew Gwaine's style of fighting well, knew when he would strike high or low, was not dazzled by Gwaine's fancy footwork. The hardest thing, Arthur thought, is going to be making this look realistic. Arthur's heart was pounding fast, not from the effort of fighting but from the anticipation of what he was about to do, and how much it was going to hurt. He decided not to put it off a moment longer lest he lose his nerve and, in doing so, lose the opportunity to force Gwaine to reveal his magical powers. As Gwaine lunged in with a low swing, Arthur deliberately missed the parry and felt Gwaine's sword slice into his thigh, instantly felling Arthur to the ground as blood spurted forth in alarming profusion.

Immediately, all the knights who had been engaged in combat stopped and gathered round their fallen king in horror. Percival and Leon, who had been watching his fight, were the first to react and run to him. Gwaine, too, instantly threw down his sword and knelt beside Arthur but he was too shocked by what had happened to tend to him.

'Is it bad?' panted Arthur, in too much pain to see for himself. Everyone was so horrified, no-one thought to answer him. One glance at Arthur's leg was sufficient for any of the knights who were experienced in battle, to see that the wound was extremely serious, potentially life threatening. Blood continued to ooze, soaking the grass around him. Percival, who was not in armour, quickly pulled off his shirt and began to rip it into strips and tie them around Arthur's leg tightly in an effort to stem the flow. Then, with Leon's help, and despite his own wound in his arm, he picked Arthur up and carried him as quickly as he could to the armoury. Gwaine, Leon, Elyan and Mordred followed him.

In the armoury, the work continued to try to stem the flow of blood. Elyan, too, removed his chain mail and padded tunic, and tried to use this latter garment as a pad, pressing down on the wound. Arthur cried out in agony, and the blood seemed to soak the tunic in seconds. Arthur was as white as a sheet, his face had a sheen of sweat on it, and his breathing was laboured. There were just the closest of his knights here with him - and Mordred, but Mordred would surely one day be one of this close band of brothers. Now was the time, reasoned Arthur, when Gwaine would feel safe enough to perform his healing magic. Arthur reached out for him.

'Gwaine! Gwaine! Help me. Heal me,' Arthur appealed.

Gwaine looked startled to be singled out in this manner, but he already knew he was responsible for causing this terrible injury to his king, so he naturally took on a degree of responsibility for tending to Arthur's needs. He murmured something about doing the best he could, and then shouted to Elyan to press harder.

Arthur again cried out, and, thrashing with his arms, somehow managed to grab hold of Gwaine. Pulling him closer, he appealed to him again.

'Do whatever it takes,' he said, trying to make Gwaine understand. 'The wound is too deep for the blood to stop flowing. Please, I am going to die without your help Gwaine... please...' his breathing was becoming more ragged. His blue eyes locked on Gwaine's brown ones and a look of such intensity passed from the king to his anguished knight. 'Please, Gwaine, for the love of Camelot, for the love of Albion, save me!'

Gwaine stared at Arthur in an agony of remorse and helplessness. The other knights exchanged glances with each other, as confused and as horrified by this turn of events as Gwaine. None of them could understand why Arthur chose to speak to Gwaine and Gwaine alone as if he were the only person in the armoury with Arthur. Finally, Leon came to his senses and shouted at Mordred:

'Quick! Run and fetch Gaius. Tell him to go to Arthur's chambers,' and, as Mordred ran to do his bidding, Leon and Percival grabbed a stretcher that stood propped against the wall for emergencies such as this, and manoeuvred Arthur onto it. Together, the four knights bore their king out of the armoury and upstairs.

* * *

Merlin was sitting at the table in Gaius' chambers, a blanket wrapped around him, eating some soup. He had just got out of his bed; this was his first food in more than two days and it felt good. Gaius was in a corner brewing some foul concoction, fortunately not intended for Merlin, when Mordred came bursting in, a wild and frantic look on his face.

'Arthur has been mortally wounded!' he exclaimed. Gaius dropped the book he had been consulting and Merlin flung off the blanket around him and rose to his feet, the soup instantly forgotten. They could see from Mordred's expression that this was no time for hesitation but Merlin's sudden rise to his feet had left him dizzy and he clung to the table edge to stop himself falling over, and Gaius couldn't suppress a moment of fatherly concern for the boy.

'Gaius, you need to hurry! Gaius!' Mordred appealed desperately. 'The knights are bearing him to his chambers even now. There is no time to waste!'

'You go, Gaius,' Merlin told him. It was clear to both of them that Merlin should go with him but at this moment, Merlin was not capable of keeping up with him. 'Mordred will help me follow you,' Merlin said half questioningly, looking to Mordred for confirmation. Mordred nodded.

As soon as Mordred had confirmed this, Gaius did not hesitate further or stop to ask questions. He picked up his bag and rushed out without a word or a backward glance. Merlin steadied himself and then leant on Mordred's shoulder and allowed him to partially take his weight.

'What has happened?' Merlin asked as they headed for the door.

'Gwaine accidentally wounded Arthur with his sword,' Mordred replied. 'It looks serious, really serious.' Merlin hesitated in the doorway for a moment, hearing the shock and squeamishness in the boy's voice. He looked at Mordred and saw him, not as the threat to Arthur that Merlin believed he was, but simply as a young boy who had seen something awful and was having trouble accepting it. Mordred returned Merlin's look and, as if there had been another conversation occurring between them, he said, 'Merlin, there is something I need to tell you. Arthur has been looking for Emrys. He was asking me about him yesterday. I did not betray your secret.'

Merlin regarded him for a moment longer and nodded, before he remembered the peril Arthur was in. He patted Mordred on the back, indicating that they should keep moving.

'It may not matter now,' he muttered as they staggered down the corridor.

* * *

When they arrived in Arthur's chambers, Arthur had already been lain on the bed. He was quiet now, no longer writhing in agony, or crying out. His breathing was fast and shallow. Blood was still oozing from his wound, despite all the tourniquets and makeshift bandages that had been applied. Gaius was examining him while the knights stood to one side, Gwen amongst them, being comforted by Elyan.

Mordred joined the knights while Merlin crossed to where Gaius was, ready to be the physician's assistant as he had been so many times in the past.

'What do you need, Gaius?' he asked, turning to Gaius' medical bag. The blood in his veins ran cold when Gaius turned to him and spoke quietly so that Arthur, the knights and Gwen could not hear him.

'There is nothing I can do. The life is slipping away from Arthur.'

'There must be something you can do!' Merlin whispered back, staring at Gaius in wide-eyed horror.

Gaius simply shook his head slowly.

'All I can do is continue to staunch the flow, maybe buy him a little more time in which to say his goodbyes, and then wait for him to die. I am very sorry, Merlin.'

Merlin stared at Gaius in disbelief, then looked at Arthur. All the colour had gone from his face. He lay with his eyes closed, seemingly no longer aware of where he was or what was happening around him. On the other side of the bed, Gwen was weeping silently, clinging to Elyan. All of the knights looked dumbstruck, all but Gwaine who was distraught. As the tears fell down his cheeks, he kept repeating to himself, 'He kept asking me to heal him but I did not know how,' and then to Gwen, 'I did what I could my Lady but I didn't know how to heal him.'

Merlin could not take in what was happening. He wondered for a moment if he was still in his fevered sleep and this was another of its nightmares, but it was too horrific to be just a nightmare. He watched helplessly as Gaius leant over Arthur, making him comfortable, pulling the covers over him and hiding the dreadful sight of his mortal wound. Then he went round the bed and spoke quietly to Leon, and Merlin guessed he was telling him what he had just told Merlin. Leon paled and nodded, and the message was passed between the other knights. Merlin expected them to come forward and speak some final words to Arthur, but in fact, Leon began to gently usher everyone out of the room. Gwen and Gwaine were beside themselves – Gwen's weeping became audible – and they had to be led out by Elyan and Percival respectively. In the end, only Merlin and Gaius remained, and Gwen's heart-rending wails receded into the distance.

Merlin looked from the closed door to Gaius in bewilderment.

'Shouldn't you have let them say goodbye?' he asked Gaius brokenly. He knew he would have to say something himself to Arthur – no amount of persuasion would have stopped him – and he felt the tears prick his eyes as he realised all their hopes and dreams, all that talk of great destinies and a united Albion, were now ashes.

Gaius gave Merlin an intent look, and pulled him slightly away from the bed to talk to him.

'Merlin, I said there was nothing more that I could do for Arthur. That does not mean there is nothing more that anyone can do. Your magic is strong enough. You can use your magic and save Arthur, but you need to know this: if you are to do it, you need to do it quickly. There can be no time for covering things up. It is now or never and if you do it, you need to know there will be consequences to face.'

He looked into Merlin's eyes to ensure that Merlin understood. Merlin nodded. There could be no turning back now. All the knights and Gwen had seen that Arthur was mortally wounded. Even if Arthur was now unconscious, and he could be fooled into believing that his wound had not been that bad, the knights and Gwen would know differently. This was the moment Merlin had longed for and dreaded in equal measure ever since he first learnt from Kilgharrah of his destiny to stand beside Arthur and help him unite the land of Albion.

'It has to be now, Merlin,' Gaius repeated and then, knowing that whether Arthur was to be saved or not was out of his hands, he left the room.

Merlin turned to the bed. Arthur lay still and silent, though the bed covers rose and fell with his breathing. He moved closer, and sat on the edge of the bed, by Arthur's side. Arthur felt the movement of the mattress and opened his eyes.

'What have you done?' Merlin leaned over Arthur whose breath was still coming shallow and fast.

'I let Gwaine deal me a mortal blow,' Arthur panted.

'And why was that a good idea?'

'Because Gwaine is a powerful sorcerer and I thought he could heal me.'

'No, Arthur.' Merlin shook his head incredulously. 'What made you think that?'

'Gwaine's skill with a sword...he always kept his background from me...his sister is a witch...he hated my father.' All the reasons Arthur had dreamed up. They all sounded so pathetic. How had he made them add up into something so big?

Merlin felt such pity and love and exasperation with his ludicrous friend. He reached out a hand and gently touched Arthur's shoulder.

'Gwaine is from a noble family,' Merlin explained. 'Yet he despises nobles because his king did not help his mother when she needed it. He hated your father because your father honoured nobility above all else. He and his sister have never got on. He called her a witch because she nags him and pours curses on him – in the same way that you do me; she has no magical powers. And as for his skill with a sword – did you really think no-one could be better than you? Even after all I have done to try and improve you, you are still as arrogant as before!' It was an affectionate jibe; Merlin smiled despite the desperateness of the situation.

Arthur heard all he said, and felt his heart sink as he realised how wrong he had been.

'I've really messed up, haven't I?' His whisper was barely audible. Merlin had to lean right over to hear him. 'I've been a fool, Merlin.'

'I wouldn't say that,' Merlin replied. He paused a moment while Arthur looked at him, every ounce of his energy now needed to stay alive, no chance of speaking another word. 'I'd say you were a clotpole.' Arthur gave the merest hint of a smile, and took his last look at his dearest friend's vivid blue eyes.

At that moment, the blue became a glowing yellow and Arthur felt himself bathed in warmth and softness, as the world around him faded and blackened.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven – In Search of Merlin

When he awoke, the grey light of dawn was filtering through the curtains. It was a new day. Arthur felt strangely relaxed and not quite 'there', as though he were floating. Slowly, he flexed his body, his hands, his feet, and the floating sensation disappeared. He inched his leg a little, and was surprised not to feel any pain where Gwaine's sword had pierced him. In fact, had he not known better, he might have thought yesterday had never happened and he was waking up on a normal day having admittedly had what felt like the best night's sleep he had ever had. Then he looked around the room and saw Merlin sitting on a chair, his back to the light from the window, but a candle stood on the table next to him, now little more than a stub, its flame illuminating Merlin's face. He was wide awake and staring straight at Arthur. His eyes were no longer glowing. They looked large, and their expression was unfathomable, but they were definitely blue.

'Have you been here all night?' Arthur asked.

Merlin nodded. 'I...wanted to be here when you woke up,' he said tonelessly.

Arthur acknowledged the reply with a small smile. He needed time to wake up properly, to remember what had happened.

Merlin asked in the same quiet tone: 'How are you feeling?'

'I feel...' Arthur tried to process how he felt. 'I feel... great,' he concluded in surprise.

Merlin did not offer any answer to that. He seemed to be simply sitting there, waiting for Arthur to lead the way.

After a while, Arthur said, 'What happened last night?'

'You don't remember?' Merlin asked, leaning forward.

'Oh, I remember all right,' Arthur said, his tone becoming more forceful as his strength returned and his thought processes sharpened. 'But I want you to tell me.' Merlin looked distinctly uncomfortable. If Arthur had not known better, he would have said he had finally made Merlin squirm.

'I...' began Merlin, unsure if he could go on. He had been planning this conversation all night. How was it he now couldn't go through with it? 'I healed you,' he ended lamely.

'You healed me?' Arthur repeated. Merlin nodded. 'When no-one else could? I heard Leon telling Guinevere the wound was a mortal one, and Leon is as experienced in battle as I am. And Gaius could do nothing for me. Yet you, Merlin, you healed me? As simple as that?'

'It wasn't so simple...' Merlin murmured, remembering the complex incantation that had silently gone through his mind when he conjured the magic. It was not the sort of magic he had known since birth; this spell was something he had only recently felt powerful enough to master.

'Well, let's see what sort of a job you did, shall we Merlin?' said Arthur, warming to his theme. He sat up, and flung the bed covers from his legs. Around his leg, bloody bandages were still wrapped, and when Arthur had removed them, his trousers underneath were ripped and stiff with dried blood. Arthur ripped at the ragged trousers to reveal more of his leg. Where yesterday he had been cut to the bone, today the skin was smooth and unblemished. Slowly Arthur looked up and his eyes burned into Merlin's. 'I would say that was a pretty efficient job,' he said sardonically.

Merlin swallowed and struggled to find the right words. 'Arthur...' he began but Arthur interrupted him with a gesture that told Merlin not to speak.

'None of your lies, please Merlin. I think we have gone beyond that now, don't you?' He gave Merlin a judicious look. '_You're_ Emrys, aren't you?'

Merlin swallowed again and steeled himself. Looking Arthur directly in the eye he said, 'That is the name the Druids give me.'

Arthur nodded as though Merlin's words had confirmed something he already knew. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, cautiously at first, he couldn't help himself, but of course the moment his feet touched the floor he remembered that there would be no pain, that he was completely and utterly healed. Brought back from the dead, almost.

Merlin also stood up. It was not so much out of respect for his king, but more as a form of defence. In fact, he still felt quite weak from his fever, but he was able to stand, for which he was grateful, as he felt he needed to appear as strong as possible at this moment. He watched Arthur warily as the latter began to pace the room.

'You?' Arthur said disbelievingly. 'You're a sorcerer? You have powers greater than have ever been seen before? You're the one who is destined to walk the same path as me, to help me unite Albion and bring peace to the lands?' His voice became more and more incredulous. 'Merlin, you can't even serve wine without spilling it! You can't stalk a deer without tripping over your feet! You are a complete dollophead! How can _you_ be the most powerful sorcerer in the land?' He came to a standstill in front of his servant.

Merlin felt affronted. He had expected Arthur to be angry, he had expected him to be upset, he had even expected him to call the guards and order Merlin to be thrown into jail. What he had not expected was this disbelief based upon Merlin's inadequacies as a servant.

'How can_ you_ be the king of Camelot, the Once and Future King, when you can't even dress yourself?' he retorted.

'I can dress myself,' Arthur countered. 'But why should I when I have a servant to do it for me?'

Merlin was about to respond when Arthur suddenly seemed to realise what they were doing.

'Why are we bickering like two women at the market?' he asked himself as much as Merlin. For a moment he stood deep in thought, then he took a deep breath and looked at Merlin again. 'All I can say is, you have certainly hidden your talents well.' The ghost of a smile twitched at his lips.

Merlin shrugged. 'It has not been easy,' he conceded.

The merest hint of a snort of laughter escaped Arthur. He turned and went to sit at the table. Merlin could no longer hold in the one question that was uppermost in his mind.

'Arthur,' he said, following the king to the table. 'What are you going to do with me?'

Arthur toyed with a quill that lay discarded on the table, as though he was considering this question. In truth, he already knew the answer, but it wouldn't do Merlin any harm to sweat about it for a moment or two. He had had two days in which to become accustomed to the idea that a sorcerer was working alongside him. A sorcerer who wanted what he wanted: justice, peace and a united Albion. A powerful sorcerer, more powerful than any other, more powerful even than Morgana. A sorcerer who used his magic for good. He would be a fool if he did not accept him and welcome him to the Round Table, and Arthur was no fool. He looked up at last, and indicated that Merlin should sit at the table with him. He was looking rather pale, Arthur realised, and not just because his fate lay in Arthur's hands.

'I am not my father,' he said, as Merlin sat down. 'During his lifetime he waged war on sorcery and and did everything he could to suppress both it and those people who used it. I believe he had just cause at times to fear and distrust sorcery as he did, but I have never been comfortable with the way he persecuted people with magic. I do not believe that sorcery itself is evil, but rather that some sorcerers can become evil when the power from sorcery corrupts them. Since I became king, I have not continued with my father's purge, as well you know. I will fight against the _evil _that sorcery can bring, but I will not fight against the sorcerers themselves, nor those who turn to sorcerers to achieve good and honest ends.' Arthur stopped for a moment and smiled at Merlin before continuing: 'You have no reason to fear, Merlin. From henceforth, magic shall be accepted in Camelot and will be welcomed in my court. We shall work together to bring peace and freedom to all people in this land, and we shall strive to unite Albion and drive out the enemies of peace and tolerance.' He did not name names. He did not need to.

Merlin's face broke into the broadest of smiles, matched only by Arthur's.

'Thank you, Sire,' he said simply. It was enough.

For a while, the two men sat in happy silence. So much needed to be said, but the day had only just begun and for now, both Arthur and Merlin were content. But as they sat, each engrossed in their own thoughts, Arthur's face began to cloud over a little. Finally, he spoke what was on his mind.

'I suppose now you will expect honours to be heaped upon you. You will want to have a place at the Round Table, and you will expect everyone to hang on your every word. You will want fine clothes and a chamber of your own.' Arthur didn't sound as though he minded terribly about this prospective rise in Merlin's status, but when he continued there was a hint of sadness in his voice. ' I shall have to find someone else to polish my armour, wash my clothes and clean my room.'

Merlin inclined his head considering this.

'Oh I don't know,' he said slowly. 'It _would_ be nice to have people listen to me for a change, and I can't pretend I haven't always longed for a long swishy cloak and a pointed hat...'

Arthur looked at him sharply, and realised Merlin was joking.

'But as for someone else becoming your man-servant, well, who could do a better job than me?'

Merlin grinned, trying to elicit from Arthur a compliment. But Arthur remained gloomy and pensive.

'As my sorcerer and advisor, you will not have as much time to attend to my domestic needs as you used to.'

Merlin resisted the obvious reply that, since arriving in Camelot, his time had always been divided between serving Arthur, assisting Gaius, and saving the kingdom from every magical threat imaginable. He had, of late, become more and more indispensable to Arthur, both as his unofficial counsellor and his speech writer. His new role would hardly take up more time than was already devoted to the king. Furthermore, Arthur was clearly unaware of the practical uses to which Merlin could put his magic.

'Perhaps some of those tasks will not be as arduous as they were before,' he said cautiously.

Merlin hesitated for a moment, while Arthur puzzled over what he meant. Then, with a flash of his eyes, things began to move within the room. Arthur's armour was lifted into the air by invisible hands, and cloths began to polish it. His clothes were likewise lifted, taken to a tub of water and appeared to start washing themselves. Other objects in the room flew to their correct place, the curtains straightened, the bed was made, and last night's fire, which had long since gone out, relaid itself with logs and began to burn merrily. Arthur stared in wonder at everything and then looked at Merlin who sat nonchalantly in his chair, arms folded, enjoying the spectacle around him. He was smiling, and Arthur suddenly saw the funny side and began to smile too. They caught each other's eyes and simultaneously started to laugh with delight.

When their laughter died down, it was Merlin's turn to say what was on his mind.

'The day we went hunting and rescued the sorceress from the villagers...'

'What about it?' asked Arthur.

Merlin fixed him with a stare.

'I didn't _fall _into that stream, did I? You _pushed_ me.' Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but in this morning for truth, he could not lie. Merlin continued. 'Only it would be nice, now that you know we share the same destiny, if you didn't try to half kill me just because you are unable to catch so much as a rabbit.'

Arthur couldn't help himself. He bridled at the accusation.

'Is this your great warlock powers of perception talking?' he mocked.

'No, this is my experience of being your servant talking.' He waited a moment but Arthur said nothing. 'You haven't answered my question,' Merlin persisted.

Arthur gave him his most arrogant smile.

'And what, in your experience as my servant, has taught you that I ever would?'

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading my story. If you enjoyed it, please leave a message to tell me so. Even though it is months now since I wrote it, I can see people are still reading it, and I would love to hear from any who enjoyed it. Thanks!**


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